


She

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Captain America - Freeform, Dark Steve Rogers, Dark fic, Dark!Steve Rogers - Freeform, F/M, Fic, Marvel - Freeform, Reporter, Series, dark!fic, mcu - Freeform, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.Chapter Summary: You meet Steve Rogers for an interview but he’s not what you expected.Warnings: non-consent sex (series)This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 137
Kudos: 390





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been trying to chill the last five days but I obviously got some writing in. It has resulted in this impromptu series and I hope you all like it. It’s looking like it will be about 10 chapters when all is said is done but that being said, I am still working on it.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a kudos and/or comment! Love ya!

[ **Reader** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ3PeDGswz4)

Your left ankle bent as you leaned heavily on your heel. You stood before the thick walnut door, a round frosted window on its face. The townhouse stuck out on the old Brooklyn row and all knew its resident. It surprised many that he remained in the borough and he was cherished all the more for it. He was the golden boy of New York.

_Well, that’s what people like to believe._ You weren’t there to paint another flowery picture of the saviour. You were there to speak with the real man behind the plan. There was a story behind Steve Rogers that had yet to be told and when you were selected to tell it, you knew you had to do it right. The task was both daunting and humbling. It could be your big break.

You knocked and adjusted the bag that hung from your shoulder. You didn’t miss the group of kids at the end of the block gathered around for a glimpse of their hero. The door opened and you were greeted by the man himself. He smiled at you as his hand rested on the curled door handle.

“Hi,” He greeted you. “Thanks for coming. It saves me a lot of trouble.”

“Not at all,” You shook his hand. 

You’d spoken to him briefly over the phone and negotiated the time and place for your interview. You agreed that him coming to the office would cause too much of a flurry. You were sure he was over that.

“Come in,” He stepped back and waved you through.

He closed the door as you looked around the entryway. A thick banister with the same dark wood as the walls led up to the second level and a finely carved archway peeked through to the next room. It was cozy and a lot quainter than you expected. The exposed brick above the panelling lent it a warmth.

“Shoes?” You stopped by the mat.

“Your call,” He said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers, but I’m fine,” You assured him as you stepped out of your heels. You’d hate to scuff the hardwood. “I’m sure you're just as impatient as me to begin.”

“Steve. And yeah, I suppose. I don’t really do much more than pressers and usually, I don’t do much talking.” He confessed. “Just through here,” He pointed to the front room. 

You nodded and stepped through. He directed you to the pair of armchairs before the artificial fireplace and you set your bag down as you sat. He lowered himself across from you as you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and notebook. You swiped up and flicked your finger across the screen.

“Do you mind if I record you? It helps with editing and of course, accuracy,” You said.

He scratched his jaw and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Great,” You hit the red dot and set the phone down on the small table with the mic facing him. 

🖋️

You were a bit surprised by how it had all unfolded, but, you supposed, you were right when you said no one was ever exactly what they seemed. Steve was nice enough as he showed you the door but you could see the agitated impatience behind his eyes. You should’ve eased him into it more. Timing was everything.

Even so, you had promised your editor a story and if you didn’t deliver after being chosen for such a coveted one, well, you would never see its likes again.

So you sat at your desk in your small but comfortable city apartment. It was nothing compared to the star-spangled hero’s walk-up but it was home. If you could work the interview the right way, it might mean an upgrade, or at least a television that didn’t flicker.

You hit play on your phone for the third time that night. Steve Rogers’ voice was etched into your brain. And that tension in his forehead, the tic in his jaw. A thinly veiled wrath unexpected of the valiant soldier-turned-saviour. You shivered and paused the recording. It was almost startling how quickly he’d turned on you, but you weren’t entirely innocent.

You stretched your fingers over the keyboard and sighed as you stared at your blinking cursor. You couldn’t just sit on this forever. You had a deadline and an extension was an impossibility, if not a death warrant for your career _._

So you hit play and began to type, pausing to play back snippets as you went.

🖋️

_‘It’s early afternoon in the heart of Brooklyn. Amidst the old brick buildings that line the cracked sidewalks is a townhouse unlike any other. The home of a man born there over a century ago. A living ghost that haunts the block. Most would say he is a friendly spirit._

_Steve Rogers answers the door as a boy lets his baseball roll under a car and his friends lower their mitts to watch. A teen on a bike, a ring in his nose, even slows to admire the hometown hero as he smiles; a beacon of the borough. A glimmer of hope for all to think that the block is not the whole world._

_He greets me like an old friend. “Hi.” The same smile seen in newsprint. He thanks me for coming and ushers me inside. This is the first time I’ve met him in person. I can’t lie; I’m intimidated. I’m just another person in debt to this great veteran._

_His house isn’t what you would expect from a man as prestigious as him. No medals hanging on the wall, no vainglorious cut-outs of his image, or pictures of him shaking hands with men in suits. Only framed baseball cards along freshly laid wood-panels. It’s like any other house in Brooklyn, just newer. An ancient skeleton revived._

_We sit in the front room, he offers me a drink. I’m not very thirsty. I’m more anxious to start talking. I can see he is too though his facade is hard to crack. He tells me to call him Steve as my recitations of ‘Mr. Rogers’ become almost pathetic. We begin._

_**Interviewer:** “Great.” I hit ‘record’. “I’ll start by saying you have a nice place.”_

_**Steve:** “Thanks.” He seems to relax as he leans back in the chair which is nearly too narrow for his broad shoulders. “It took a while but I think it’s coming together.”_

_**Interviewer:** “Can’t take the boy out of Brooklyn, I guess.”_

_**Steve:** “Wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles again, though he never truly looks less than amiable._

_**I:** “Only to save it,”_

_**S:** “I do what I can._

_**I:** “More than most; New York, Sekovia, the world. You’ve done it all. Do you ever just take a break?”_

_**S:** “I try. And sometimes I get a chance to just… be here.”_

_He looks around, proud of himself, of his home._

_**I:** “Any hobbies?”_

_**S:** “You know, I used to love to draw. Nothing special, you know. But I found it calming. I actually bought a bunch of pencils and a pad but I never touched them. I’m sure they're just sitting up in my closet, neglected.” _

_I listen intently, imagining this man bent over a notebook. It’s an absurd picture as my mind returns to the man in his cowl with shield in hand. The red, white, and blue bullseye is more suiting in my head than a pen._

_**I:** “Anything else? Anything you actually do?”_

_**S:** “I like to run. Helps me get to know my neighbours, reconnect with my roots. I read… a little. I’m still not really into the whole internet thing but I try. I still get the newspaper just to read the strips and fill in the weekly crosswords.”_

_He confirms my suspicion. A man lost in time, but it seems he has found his place._

_**I:** “A man for all times. And you work? I’m sure you get tired of talking about it but well, there’s been a lot of speculation about a possible retirement.”_

_He ‘s silent as he looks away and fidgets in his chair. He becomes the rehearsed hero at his podium._

_**S:** “I’d hate to fan that fire but I think it’s only natural to consider it.” _

_**I:** “Thinking of settling down?”_

_**S:** “It’s always a thought but I’m not stupid. It’s not that simple. I’m not the type of man that gets to settle down.”_

_This remark might break the heart of every woman in Brooklyn and beyond but it seems to hurt him more. A grim truth for a man who many would say has the world in his hands._

_**I:** “And if you did hang up the shield, is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go?” _

_**S:** “I’d like to try fishing. I’ve heard it’s relaxing. I love the city but it’s nice to get away now and then.”_

_**I:** “Is there anything keeping you from retiring? Besides the obvious; we all know you’re a good man and a great hero. You’ve shown commitment to the city, the world, humanity.” _

_He looks to the artificial fireplace and shrugs. He’s thinking; perhaps censoring his response._

_**I:** “Co-workers? The world is well aware of what you did for your old friend. And it has proven to be a point of contention, even after the pardon.”_

_He clears his throat and he’s no longer smiling._

_**S:** “Bucky is an old friend and a commendable soldier. He does his job well. I wouldn’t take anything back. He has more than earned his place.”_

_**I:** “So, if you retired, you believe that he would retain his place among the team?”_

_He’s frowning now. He adjusts his posture so that he seems even bigger than before. A formidable opponent, if not an overwhelming one._

_**S:** “He is not there because of me. He’s there because of himself. Because he is an asset to the world.”_

_His blue eyes are darker now. No longer the crystalline waves shining in the sun but those foreboding tides which crash together beneath the moonless sky. My ship has gone awry, carried by an errant wind._

_**I:** “Well, I can’t help but point out that many wouldn’t agree. You put yourself and several of your associates on the line to save him. To bring him into your fold. To place a man who was once a national enemy beside you. I hate to say it but, frankly, even if he were pardoned on his own merit, I fail to imagine him being allowed the same access to confidential intelligence and tasked with the protection of civilian life.”_

_His hands are fists. I could put up a front and say I’m not nervous, but I am. I have done what I once thought impossible. I have angered Steve Rogers._

_**S:** “He wasn’r Bucky, but he is now and he has been cleared. I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk about me.”_

_**I:** “Yes, I am, but the world is well aware of your friendship with Mr. Barnes and all its implications. It is hard to separate him from your life.”_

_**S:** “I agreed to talk about me.”_

_His tone is set in stone. I attempt to stay calm myself._

_**I:** “We are talking about you, but we can move on. Now, even with its dissolution, there are still questions being asked about the Sokovia Accords and your opposition to it. While many can acknowledge the need for your team and their work, they can’t help but wonder at the lack of restraints placed upon it. There are regulations even for the FBI and CIA and other protective services. So why should you be exempt?”_

_He sniffs and stands up slowly. He retreats behind his chair and nears a table along the wall. He distracts himself with a signed baseball. I don’t have a chance to ask who scribbled along the stitches as he tosses it and finds his voice._

_**S:** “I never disagreed with the sentiment of the Accords. As heroes, of course, we should have obligations. Our first and foremost being the protection of innocent lives. The hardest to uphold but we do it.”_

_He is ever the statesman but he isn’t finished and his voice gets low. Dangerous, even._

_**S:** “At the same time, we put our own lives on the line and you come here and nag me about formalities? What is it you want? Paperwork? Reports on how I threw my shield to stop a bullet from striking an innocent bystander? How a piece of shrapnel nearly severed my tendon as I threw myself in front of a speeding vehicle?”_

_**I:** “With all due respect, I am only asking about transparency. People deserve to know more. They deserve the truth.”_

_**S:** “Is that what you’re looking for? The truth? You want to know what we don’t tell you and your readers?” _

_He puts the baseball down and his hand is on his hip, disapproving. I suspect his lecture will continue. He nears the chair and grips the back of it as he narrows his eyes at me. I fear he might throw it in my direction though for now, I hope it should act as my own shield against him._

_**S:** “About how I have to lie about how many men I lose to keep this world safe. Because I can’t scare the people. Because I have to keep on this mask of the brave hero.”_

_His eyes go to the ceiling. He takes a breath to calm himself. I can tell he wants to continue. That he is holding back something which has brewed within him for a very long time. It is a moment before he speaks again._

_**S:** “We’re done here. That’s it. Turn your phone off and go.”_

_The interview is over. What happens next will remain off the record. I leave with a mouth full of bile. My childlike wonder has been extinguished. I came to seek out the man behind the shield and I have done just that, but he is not who I expected._

_I was ready for a humble man, a man like any of us; the same wants and desires. Still human despite his enhancements; despite his superhuman status. What I discovered was a man who’s exceptionality has nurtured a sense of entitlement._

_And we do owe him our lives, our gratitude, we owe him the world. Yet I cannot dismiss the sense that he might regret his good deeds. That to him, it has become a thankless chore. That we are the needy children and he has been burdened with our cries for help._

_So we should not be surprised or upset upon his retirement, not if, but when it comes. And we cannot fault him for his departure. It has been a long-time coming.’_

🖋️

You took a breath and sat back in your chair. You rubbed your cheeks as the recording began to repeat itself. You stopped it and checked the time. You’d spend your morning editing and hope you would be ready for submission by the evening.

As you hit save, you felt an odd tremor deep inside. This could be it. Your big story. Or you could be tired and entirely up your own ass. You only hoped it was the former.

🖋️

You sat across from Poppy as she read your article through the glasses which sat low on her long nose. She was just past forty and wouldn’t look it if she didn’t wear the ridiculous half-circle spectacles. She wore a shade of red which paid homage to her name and her lipstick was just as bold. Her long lashes flicked up as she lowered the pages and her blonde hair fell behind her shoulder.

“Well…” She said carefully. “It is…interesting.”

You swallowed nervously as you teetered on the edge of the acrylic seat. Her long manicured nails played with the corner of the article.

“I had initially planned to have this in the back pages. No one really cares about the Avengers anymore.” She said. “But this is… I will discuss it with our marketing team but I know a feature when I see it.”

“A feature?” Your lips parted and you sat back as you gripped the thin arms of the chair.

“Oh, yes,” She said. “Another celebrity break-up is not exactly scandalous and to be frank, I do tire of that ridiculous narrative. But this… you will be hearing from me soon.”

“Uh,” You stood awkwardly at what you were sure was a dismissal. “Thank you.”

“For what? Doing my job? Should I thank you for doing yours?” She countered.

“N-no,” You stuttered.

“Go on then. I’m certain you have other work to do.” She tapped her long nails. “You certainly will once this is ready to print.”

You nodded and left her. She was already on her phone before the door closer behind you and you looked around the blindly bright office. It would be your first feature and it was the first article which had earned you more than a passive grumble from the woman. Perhaps you hadn’t been so foolish to think you had actually done something well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of his recent notoriety.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (series)
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I know this starts slow but I promise it is a steady creep towards the finish line. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Steve**

It was a morning like any other. Steve woke up, pulled on his track pants and a light blue tee, and took his time tying his old sneakers. He stretched as he neared the door and hopped down the front steps of his walk-up. It was early and as quiet as New York got.

He set off on his usual route. It was his only chance to just lose himself. He could just run and not think about everything that awaited him. He was due at the compound that day; another briefing. That one thought tugged at his mind. _Was it time?_

When he returned to his townhouse, he jogged up his steps and let himself inside. He had some water and made his usual breakfast. Two eggs and four strips of bacon with rye toast. He sat and ate alone. The place felt empty.

It had taken him over two years to renovate the place and he missed the flurry of activity. He hadn’t felt so lonely then, even when half the world had disappeared. Now it was just him. He felt less and less himself every day. Bitter, resentful, tired.

He rinsed his dishes as he stared at the deep red tiles above the sink. He sighed. He’d tried dating. He was about as great at it was he had been when he weighed as much as his left leg. He dried the plate and placed it among the stack. He didn’t know why he had so many; it was only ever him. The glass went with the rest and the utensils clattered loudly into the drawer. 

A buzz sounded. The noise was quiet but nagging. He often ignored it. He left his phone by the door when he got home to charge and only took it when he went to work. It continued to vibrate. It was ringing. He unhooked the cord and answered as Fury’s name flashed up at him.

“Rogers,” He answered as he headed upstairs. “I’m on my way. I’m not due for another--”

“You’re due when I say you’re due,” Fury snapped. “Which is now.”

“Alright, just let me get dressed,” Steve huffed as he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. 

“Maybe start answering your phone,” Fury snarled.

“It was charging.” Steve argued. 

The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the mattress and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For all he did, it was never a please or thank you, it was only more, more, more. 

He stood and pushed his hair back. He’d take his time just to spite Fury. The biggest act of defiance he could muster. He went into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He closed the glass door and let it steam up before he stripped. He glanced in the mirror. 

He wondered what life would have been if he had stayed the skinny boy who punched up. He was certain even that would be a happier existence than this. _He had sold his soul for what?_ It didn’t have to be him, it could have been anyone. _Why had he always insisted on being the big guy? The hero?_

He pulled open the shower and stepped inside. The cloud of steam settled over him and he closed his eyes. _No, it did have to be him because there was no one like Steve Rogers._

🖋️

Steve walked into the compound. He was agitated. He had been accosted coming out of his house by some photographer and had resisted the urge to swat him away like a fly as he unlocked his car. The compound was worse. A dozen people with cameras awaited him as he pulled up to the parking lot gate and waited for the booth operator to let him in.

He took the stairs. Fury greeted him with crossed arms and his usual one-eyed sneer. This couldn’t be good. He held a magazine and turned it to reveal the cover. Steve squinted and shrugged as he stopped before the irritable man.

“Look closer,” Fury shoved the magazine towards him. 

In the corner, Steve recognized himself. An edited photo which showed half of his face with his cowl on and the other without. A small tagline stood out below: _‘The Man Without A Plan: Steve Rogers’ Struggle for Stability’._ He grabbed the issue and looked closer at the glossy cover in shock.

“Shit,” He swore.

“Shit?” Fury repeated. “So I guess I don’t have to remind you of what you said to that reporter.”

“Why are you mad at me? You approved the interview.” Steve flipped through the pages to the exclusive.

“But I didn’t give the interview. If I had, it wouldn’t have made the front cover,” Fury hissed.

“No, it would all be redacted,” Steve started to read through. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t say any of that?” Fury challenged.

“No…” Steve looked up. “I did but I…”

“You let a journalist get the best of you.” Fury shook his head. “And now your plastered all over the city.”

“It’s one magazine,” Steve said.

“You need to start using that goddamn phone of yours.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly typed and turned it to Steve. “Search yourself once in a while. I know it’s tacky but shit.”

Steve read over the top news articles; ‘Steve Rogers lashes out at journalist in report’ and ‘Rogers’ Dilemma: Hero condemns ungrateful civilians’. He pulled back and looked at the magazine again. The stabbing in his heart turned to fire.

“That little--” He clamped his lips together to keep from swearing. 

“Come on,” Fury glanced around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. This much attention on you, we can’t be too careful.”

He followed Fury through the halls and past several training rooms. He thought of the reporter and her pensive eyes. The way she’d watched him so closely as she scribbled on her notepad. She’d seemed harmless until she started asking questions. 

After he calmed down, he’d nearly forgotten about the whole debacle. He assumed it would be buried like most of his interviews. One day of press and then done.

Fury led him into the plain office which looked like it was never used. It was as clean and clinical as an operating room. Fury leaned on the desk as Steve pored over the last lines of the article and paced.

“There’s not gonna be a briefing this morning,” Fury said. “Not for you.”

“What--?”

“It’s best we keep this quiet but… Rogers, you need a break. Take it.” Fury pushed back his long leather duster as he gripped his hips. “Maybe get away from the city until this all dies down.”

“Get away? This is _my_ city,” Steve hissed. “I won’t be run out by some… some…”

_Bitch!_ He wanted to say but he held it in. Even in front of this man, he had to put on a mask. He could never just say what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He bent the magazine and hit it with his palm.

“It’s just an article. Christ. I think my job is a little bigger than some gossip rag.” Steve huffed.

“I’d agree but it’s not just my call and it’s not just about you. We have a team, a younger team now. They can’t be distracted by all this.” Fury said.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Two weeks.” Fury replied. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated. 

“It should all die down before then but if it doesn’t…”

“This is bullshit.” Steve barked. “What did I say that was so wrong?”

“The concern is your temper and as ridiculous as I thought that was, I’m starting to see the sense in it.” Fury sneered. “You need to calm down, Captain.”

“I don’t have a temper problem.” Steve snarled.

“Why don’t you read that again? You were hostile and some would think intentionally trying to intimidate that reporter. A female.” Fury said pointedly. “Who, by the looks of her, isn’t much of a match for a super soldier.”

“I was across the room from her,” Steve argued. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“People won’t know that. They know that you got aggressive, quickly it seems, and then shut down the interview abruptly.” Fury took a breath. “You’re only lucky she stopped where she did.”

Steve glared at Fury. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the magazine tighter.

“Fine,” He uttered. “Two weeks.”

🖋️

Steve didn’t realize he still had the magazine in his hand until he got in his car. He sat, staring blindly out the windshield, then slowly looked down. It was bent in his grip and as he let it fall onto the passenger seat, it remained warped. He shoved his key in the slot and turned the engine.

Still, he didn’t budge. He grasped the steering wheel and a rumble began deep in his chest. A carnal growl. He invited her into his home and she ruined his reputation in return. 

Perhaps he was still the naive little Brooklyn boy. He thought she was so sweet over the phone. She was just as self-serving and apathetic as everyone else in this world. The very same he had saved, time and time again.

He pulled out sharply and flashed his pass to the booth. There were still photographers out on the sidewalk; waiting for him. He drove without thinking. He had never felt so angry. He had never let himself be this angry. Always holding it in for the sake of others. Always compromising his feelings because it was ‘right’.

He stopped parallel to the curb. His vision cleared and he peered up at the tall building. He shouldn’t have come here but he was there and he couldn’t stop himself. He turned off his car and waited.

He muted his phone as it kept buzzing; Bucky, Sam, all his team members. Asking where he was or maybe about his new found infamy. _Well, he wasn’t their leader anymore._ Not for the next two weeks so they could take care of themselves as he found something else to do. Something for himself, for once in his life.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Probably too long. An hour or two. Then he saw her. She appeared through the front doors of the building, her attention on the open purse in her hand. She dropped it as a camera flashed and Steve leaned his seat back as he watched her scramble for the overturned contents.

She didn’t look malicious. At a glance, she was just another girl. She picked up her purse and resumed her route past the photographer. He watched her through the rear view as she disappeared into a sandwich shop just a few buildings down. 

He readjusted his seat and hovered his hand over the ignition. He paused and closed his eyes. _What was he doing? Let it go. It would all just go away._

He started the car and pulled out into traffic. He was edgy and found himself leaning a bit too hard on the gas. He stopped short as he almost hit another car. He punched the dash and swore. She could play innocent but she wouldn’t get away with it. Not if he had anything to say about it.

🖋️

Steve went home but not for long. Another photographer outside his house as if he would give them a show on his front stoop. He went inside and paced his front room then went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He went upstairs and changed. Black pants, grey hoodie, a dark blue ball cap to cover his blonde hair. He fished out his only pair of sunglasses and found his way back to the first floor.

He peeked through the window. The photographer was still there. He went to the back and glanced out into the small fenced yard. Nothing but the patio set he had yet to use and overgrown grass. He went back and grabbed his keys and wallet. He sneaked out through the back gate, careful that no one saw him slip down the next street.

He walked to the subway and strode down into the station. He checked the time as he climbed on the train. He sat by the door and his leg jiggled impatiently. He stopped it with his hand and looked around. No one else seemed to notice his anxiety or him. It had been a long time since he felt invisible.

He got off and slipped past the crowds. He walked the same street he had lingered on hours before. He kept to the other side of the street as he checked the time again. _Would she already be gone?_ He kept to the mouth of the alley and watched the photographers as they waited by the front doors.

When she came out, it was the same as before. She scurried away from her own ilk as they attempted to talk to her and catch her in their lens. They left her at the subway entrance; their cameras too expensive to chance in the underground. Besides it would be difficult enough to get a shot in a car full of people.

He crossed the street and quickly descended the grimy steps behind her. He caught sight of her just before she disappeared onto her platform. He kept his distance, far enough that he’d get on the next car. The train pulled up and he watched her step inside before he mirrored her.

When the train shifted, he waited a minute before he slipped through the doors to the next car. He sat at the end as she huddled in a seat on the other side. She kept her head down, her eyes on her phone. The old New York solitary. She looked entirely vulnerable and it made something inside of him flinch. A subtle snap as he couldn’t look away even as she did nothing at all. 

She was nothing compared to him. He could break her as easily as he did criminals and villains. Probably easier. He gulped as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to resist the thoughts. _No. He wasn’t that. He didn’t do that._

_But what was he doing?_ Following her; watching her. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just done it. _What would he do from here? Follow her home and what?_ He could try talking to her but for what? The damage was done; she couldn’t undo what she’d done. And she likely wouldn’t want to. 

She had used him to climb her way up the ladder. Now her name was featured alongside his and the world was at her feet. She was the innocent and he was her antagonist. _Well, if that’s what she wanted._

As the train stopped, she stood and he did too. Almost too quickly. He slowed and kept several bodies between them as he followed her out onto the platform. She continued up onto the streets and he stayed with her. Close enough to see her but far enough she wouldn’t see him.

Her building was among many sentinels looming along the New York skyline. Boxy overpriced apartments which were often barely more than a single room. He watched her flit inside and waited. Slowly, he approached the door and stepped inside the small entryway. It was empty. 

He searched the rows of buttons for her name. The speaker was outdated and dirty. Even he could tell. Her last name was half-faded. He memorized her number and went back out into the street. He inhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly walked on. He stopped just past her building and looked down the alleyway between it and the next.

The dimming sky contrasted the wrought metal of fire escape. He glanced over his shoulder and turned down the alley. The dumpster stunk and broken bottles littered the ground around it. He stopped beyond the stinking box and looked up. He bent his knees and jumped, catching himself on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He pulled himself up. Second floor, he noted. He climbed the first set of stairs and the next and on until he reached her floor. He counted the windows across the side of the building but it barely helped. He didn’t know where they started and ended.

He went to the end of the escape and the window beside him lit up. He ducked and listened. He could hear every step on the other side of the wall. His enhanced ears could even measure the heart beat within. He slowly raised himself and peeked over the window ledge.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Or the coincidence. It was her. Her purse was on the table as she removed her blazer. Her small apartment was cluttered but not messy. She yawned as she went to the fridge. She took out a slim can of sparkling water and opened it. She searched the shelves and pulled out a styrofoam box. She picked at the contents with a fork as she leaned on the narrow counter.

She slid her phone from her pocket and set it beside her leftovers as she scrolled with her finger. She turned it over and pushed it away from her. She sighed and flipped the lid closed. She tossed the container in the bin and crossed to the couch on the other side of the counter. 

She dropped down and flipped on the television. She spread out with her head against the arm. He could see her face as she wriggled and pulled the tails of her blouse from inside her pants. She unbuttoned just the first few buttons and then let her arm hang off the side. She fiddled with the remote then set it on the low table in front of the couch.

He watched her for a while. She didn’t do much. She just laid there. She turned onto her side and took off her socks. She closed her eyes but opened them shortly after. She changed the channel again and he backed away from the window.

He thought of forcing it open but didn’t dare to think beyond that. The little tug at the back of his mind scared him. _What would he do if he just went in there? What could he do?_ He shuddered and crawled over to the stairs. He descended carefully.

When he reached the ground, he dropped down and took a breath. There was a heartbeat racing in his ears. It was his. He looked up and licked his lips. It took all his strength to walk away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself at the center of even more unwanted attention
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (series)
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slow slow creep but that’s always the best kind. Thanks everyone who is reading this. The series is in full 10 chapters and they are all DONE! So we will have a smooth ride from here on out.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Reader**

The morning was more hectic than any before. There was a brief lull, right after the story drop. The long wait for the verdict. _Was it a hit or a flop?_ You sat at your desk, typing away at your latest assignment. Nothing so glorious as the famous super soldier. Merely a fluff piece on a local foundation for children in need. The usual fare.

Then it began. The comment section on the article was overwhelming and the coverage of the printed article was just as fervent. The Google alerts on your phone threatened to drain the battery and the stationary phone on your desk began to flash. You answered.

“My office. Now.” Poppy’s demand was followed by a click.

You stood and tucked your cell up your blazer sleeve. You knocked on her transparent door and she waved you in as she remained sitting. One leg was crossed over the other as she leaned back and swiveled back and forth.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” She asked. Your eyes rounded. “You’ve set the world on fire. I have been on the phone all morning and who do you think I’ve been talking about?”

“I don’t--” You began.

“You. And Steve Rogers.” She trilled. “Even heroes must be mindful of the press.”

“What do you--?”

“Tell me haven’t been divulging in all that praise, hun,” She chimed. “What are you working on right now?”

“Um, well, I just went down the Centre for Advocacy and Assistance and I’m--”

“Drop it. Throw it on an intern’s desk,” She interrupted again. “You’ll be much too busy for that.”

“What do you mean?” You stood just behind the acrylic chair.

“Interviews!” She almost shouted. “Everyone wants to know what it was like to face down Captain America.”

“Interviews? No, no. It wasn’t like that.”

“You know what you wrote,” She jabbed a pointed nail in the air. “I think you might be as hot a commodity as he is.”

“I don’t want to be interviewed.” You said. “I’m a reporter. I don’t--”

“This is an opportunity,” She insisted. 

“It’s one article. I can’t just depend on that.” You said.

“Think about it.” She said. “Even so, clear out your desk. We’re moving you to the features department. I hope you know what that means.”

You nodded. That was a win at least.

“Long hours. Better pay.” She leaned an arm on her desk. “But it’s hard work. One wrong pitch and your back down to blurbs.”

“I know,” You assured her. “Thank you.”

“Thank me if you make it a year,” She adjusted her glasses. “And keep those eyes open. You might not want the attention, but you’re going to get it.”

🖋️

You headed out for your usual midweek lunch. As you stepped out the front doors, you were surprised by a lens. In your effort to find the card to collect stamps for your sandwiches, you stumbled and your bag fell to the pavement. You knelt to gather the scattered contents and quickly righted yourself.

You flitted past the photographer as he called after you. “Miss, miss, are you afraid of Steve Rogers?”

You rolled your eyes at the question and dipped into the sandwich shop. You got your usual turkey club on rye but not to go. Instead, you ate in, still on edge at your run-in. As a member of the press, it was startling to get a taste of the other side. You were determined in your work, but never the one to unnecessarily hound a subject.

You wiped your mouth and sat back as you checked the time. You wondered how bad it was for him. You had underestimated yourself; your article. You had ignored Poppy’s prediction that the article would be a best-seller and let your self-doubt get the best of you. And now, it was all a mess.

You hadn’t meant to villianize Steve Rogers, merely humanise him. To make him more than the man behind the perfect smile and golden hair. You thought a glimpse into his internal dilemma would be grounding, not ostracizing. You were wildly mistaken.

You tidied up and threw away your garbage. You set off back to work and passed another photographer, her curly hair barely contained under a wool cap.

“Miss, why did you smear Steve Rogers?” She asked as you tried your best to ignore her. “Can you confirm--”

You hurried through the front doors and tripped on your own foot as you entered the lobby. You cursed under your breath and caught the elevator before it could close. Your bag shook as your phone began to dance once more. You cringed and gripped the slender strap of your purse. You didn’t feel too sorry for yourself, you were sure it was much worse for him.

🖋️

The rest of your day dragged on. You were greeted by the same probing photographers but evaded them in the subway. The crowded train had you even more on edge than usual. You kept your eyes on the phone, your notifications muted but for your work e-mail. You played the little farming game as you waited for your stop.

The same walk as any other day. Short but it saw the sky greying by the time you reached your building. Your keys jingled with the overzealous keychains and attachments, an empty bottle of sanitizer clung to the mess.

You climbed up the stairs, one at a time. The wood was old and warped beneath the mats. Your door jammed and you fought the thick barrier until you forced your way inside. You flipped on the lights and locked the door behind you. You kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse. You wriggled out of your blazer and stretched as you looked around the cramped space.

You went to the buzzing refrigerator and pulled out your leftover shawarma plate from the night before and a can of sparkling water. You popped open the styrofoam and took out your phone. You leaned on the counter and at the chicken and rice cold and scraped up the last of the pickled turnip and cabbage.

Poppy wanted you in early the next morning. That couldn’t be good. Your junk box was quickly filling too as you redirected e-mails from your cohorts asking for statements and explanations. You didn’t feel the need or desire to justify what you wrote. It was the truth.

You thought of how quickly the meeting with Steve Rogers had turned tense. The mere mention of his old friend was enough to rile him but you had continued to poke. _Well, that was your job._ To follow the scent until you could latch onto the sinew of a story.

You tossed the container and went to the couch. You turned on the television and stretched out. You listened to the re-run of an early 00s sitcom and your eyes slowly closed. You were exhausted and expected to be more so after tomorrow. You only hoped the news cycle spat you out sooner than later.

You turned onto your side as the breeze rattled the fire escape outside your window. You switched the channel as the credits rolled and yawned against the pillow. As tired as you were, you knew you’d spend too much of your night on the couch; wakeless and watching episodes you’d seen a dozen times before.

🖋️

You knew something was off as you walked into the office. It was earlier than your usual start time but several others were already at their desks. You wondered if a few had even left the night before. You passed your old desk and looked at your vibrating phone.

‘Where are you?’ Poppy’s text popped up and you didn’t even stop to stare at the shell of your former workspace.

You continued onto her office and froze as you peered through her transparent wall. A man stood by her desk, his back to you and a bald head with a crooked thin strap around it. His long leather jacket hung to his knees and Poppy sat upright as she watched him tinker with the hummingbird ornament she kept on the corner.

You held back a gasp and continued forward. You raised your fist to knock but Poppy caught the movement with her seafoam eyes. She pushed her glasses up her nose and waved you in impatiently. The man turned to watch as you entered.

“Hey?” You said confused. “What’s--”

“Ma’am,” The man interjected and looked back at Poppy. “This is her?”

Poppy nodded as her lips formed a thin line.

“Hello, I’m--”

“Nick Fury.” You finished for him. “And I assume you know who I am already.”

“I know who everyone is.” He assured you and held out his hand. You shook it and felt a crushing strength in his grip. “And you know why I’m here?”

“About the article but I don’t know what you would want from me.” You said.

Poppy’s eyes widened. You’d never seen her so rattled. It was usually her doing the rattling.

“A conversation.” He said. “I understand you must be busy but I’m certain you can spare me a couple minutes.”

“I guess,” You shrugged.

“If you find yourself too busy, I can return with a subpoena.” He offered.

“A subpoena? Really?” You blinked at him. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I would agree,” He put a hand on his hip and you spied the sidearm there. _Was that intentional?_ “Is there somewhere private we might talk?”

“Take the conference room,” Poppy offered. “Just over there.” She pointed through the wall.

Fury nodded and you turned back to the door. He followed, his boots heavy on the floor behind you. You led him to the conference room and he closed the door swiftly. You didn’t sit as he began to pace around the long table. You stayed by the wall and hugged your purse.

“Look, I don’t know what you want. The article’s already out there and I didn’t write anything by the truth.” You said nervously. “I can’t control how people react to--”

“You have the recording still?” He asked as he stopped sharply. You nodded. “Good. Can I listen?”

It wasn’t really a question. He stared you down with his single eye and you took out your phone. You searched the files and hit play. You set the phone on the table as it began. You listened silently as your voice began and Steve replied. 

The conversation filled the airy conference and Fury crossed his arms as he listened. He wasn’t happy as Steve’s tone deepened and his words turned venomous. You felt a chill roll along your spine. You’d almost forgotten how hateful he’d sounded. You felt as if he was there now, his eyes boring into you as his lip curled.

As it ended, Fury nodded and rubbed his chin.

“Well,” He snatched your phone off the table. “Thank you.”

“What?” You neared the table as he tucked your cell in his pocket. “Wait, that’s my phone. I need that!”

“Your phone? Under the authority of… well, me, I am seizing it.” He declared. “For your security and every one else.”

“You can’t be serious.” You huffed.

“I can’t have this leaking.” He said. “I hear Best Buy’s having a promotion on iPhone’s. Looks like you need an upgrade anyways.”

You frowned and kept your lips sealed. He didn’t need to know about your cloud back-up. You’d have enough time to download the file before he could find it for himself. You rolled your eyes.

“Is that it?” You asked.

“I got what I wanted, like I always do,” He said. “But there is one more thing.”

You watched him. He was worse than any nosy photographer or internet troll.

“I don’t take these things lightly. You’ve sidelined one of my best men and compromised my team.” He hooked his thumb in his pants pocket. “But we’ve taken note of you and we are always vigilant of our enemies.”

“Enemies?” You shook your head.

“I suggest you steer clear of any public statements,” He warned. “Or I would consider some legal representation in the near future.”

You squinted at him in disbelief. You rubbed your forehead, tired and unprepared for your early morning interrogation. You still had a full day ahead of you. 

“Are we done?” You uttered. “I know my work isn’t as important as yours but I do have a job.”

“For now,” He said. “The public has a short attention span, miss, I suggest you find a new subject soon.”

With that he rounded the table and left you in the conference room. You sighed and grabbed the back of a chair. _What the fuck were going to do without your phone?_

🖋️

With your back-up done and a five minutes crash course in being a features writer from a new cohort, you felt entirely lost. You hid the flash drive in your purse and headed out on the guise of research. No one seemed to care very much, they all just thought you were off to search out a pitch to keep hold of your new position.

What you were truly off to do was sit in line for one of only three mobile associates at the electronics shop. When it was finally your turn, you asked for the most affordable yet reliable option. You brushed away the offer for the latest Apple shill and walked out with something a lot more comfortable next to your wallet.

You dreaded a return to the office. You were thankful for your sudden step-up as it meant a longer leash. You could check in once a week at most as long as you presented something to explain your absence. You weren’t so concerned about that anyway. 

You were more worried about getting this phone set-up. Oh, and creating new accounts because as it was, Fury and his people now had every drop of info on you. That meant, at some point, you would have to visit IT and get a new ID. For now, you forwarded all your messages to your new private e-mail and stopped by the coffee shop around the corner from your building.

You hated this new normal. Not only did you have to be aware of those who thought they could jump on your cloud, but those who would label you an enemy of the people. You were certain Fury would be keeping tabs on you and judging by the influx of bings from your phone, you were fairly certain the blow back was building by the second.

You didn’t bother delving into the chaos of the comments section. People arguing with each other over your exposure of the heroes versus those who felt it was a betrayal and misrepresentation. You had never expected the spotlight to include you but you were centre stage alongside the American hero. You only assumed it was much worse for him.

You thought on what Fury said. ‘Sidelined’. _Did that mean Steve Rogers was no longer an Avenger? Had he stepped down or been forced out?_ Hmm… you were tempted to dive down that rabbit hole but did the flames need any more fuel? And yet, it was your job to prod and poke at the vague. 

However, it would be better to steer away from that and not rely on that one trick. Besides, you didn’t truly think there was anything particularly deceptive about Steve or his associates. They were secretive only because they had to be. They were doing their jobs as you did yours.

You sat by the window and picked at the curled lip of the paper cup. _What would you pitch then?_ If you couldn’t grasp onto your momentary high, you might find the way down steep. You leaned your chin in your hand and watched the steam rise. The door chimed and you kept your eyes on the dark brew.

Maybe it was best to move along and sniff out your next bone. It would help you forget about the mess you had created while keeping your career alive. The only thing you could do was move forward and hope that this was all just buried by the next headline.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve continues his observation.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (series)
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m excited to share more with y’all. I have a doctors appointment today but I don’t know, if you really want Painted Windows too, I have a chapter that can be edited otherwise I can save that for after this is done. Anyways, have fun and be safe.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Steve**

Steve was up all night thinking about her. He tried to forget, tried to hide his face in his pillow and doze off but it was hopeless. He tossed and turned until the sky began to lighten through his window and went for an early run. Even at that hour however, he wasn’t alone. He saw the lens as he set off down the sidewalk but managed to lose the photographer by the next block.

He returned home and showered. He was still agitated. He wasn’t used to being angry for this long but the pit in his stomach remained. Her face stayed etched in his mind; her voice echoed in his ears. He caught himself thinking of how her body draped over the lumpy cushions and her chest rose and fell steadily. 

He cranked off the faucet before his mind could float away with the steam. He stepped out and wiped away the clouds that had obscured the mirror. He looked at himself. The wrinkles had been more obvious for a while. After Thanos, the edges had begun to fray. The serum slowed the process but didn’t stop it.

He leaned on the sink as he looked closer. He was a centenarian now but he looked closer to forty. As well as time had treated him, it was running out. _How long would he do this? If he did keep his job, how long would he go? Until he was grey and bent? Still alone and even more bitter?_

He heard the crack and looked down. The porcelain had broken in his grip and the sink split in a ragged line. He pulled away the chunk and sighed. Well, that would be something to keep him busy. He tossed the piece on the counter and turned away from his reflection.

He went into the bedroom as he dried off. His blond hair stuck out as he pulled the towel away and he smoothed it with his fingers. He dropped the damp terry cloth on the mattress and went to his dresser. His fingertips tapped on the polished wood. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“I’m fine,” He said to himself. “Just stressed.” 

He pulled on the drawer and opened his eyes. He took out a tee shirt. He searched through the levels and collected what he needed from the closet.

“I’m just going for a walk,” He said as his imagination conjured the silhouette sitting just behind him; faceless and silent. “Yep, I know. Almost out of milk.”

He dressed carefully and neared the long rectangle mirror that hung on the wall. The aged frame he’d made himself. He zipped up his hoodie and grabbed the cap he’d dropped on the little round table the night before.

“I shouldn’t be long.” He said as he pulled up the hood and turned to the bed. He saw her clearly now.

“Where are you going?” She asked as her hands clasped together in her lap.

“To find you.” He answered and she disappeared.

He was alone again but he didn’t feel so lost.

🖋️

Steve tilted his head as he watched the familiar figure stride down the sidewalk. _Why was Fury there? Did he know? Had he somehow found out about Steve’s little adventure?_ No, he was trained and careful. He would know if he was being watched unlike that foolish woman. _Damage control,_ he assured himself.

It was only an hour before she appeared. She was anxious, he could tell by the way she twiddled her fingers. He could hear her heartbeat above those around her. He followed as he had the day before. He liked this feeling. Of being anonymous; invisible.

She went to an electronics store and he entered after ten minutes. He saw that she was waiting in the cell phone section and he bought a cord he didn’t need before he left. She never even looked in his direction as she walked along the displays.

He returned to his vigil outside and played with the small box. He pulled out the white cord and twisted it between his fingers. He pulled it taut and his vision blurred around it. He pulled harder as he imagined it around flesh; around her brittle neck. It snapped and his trance did too. He shook his head and shoved it back into the box and buried it in his pocket.

When she emerged, he kept on. After a subway ride, she ended up at a small coffee shop in her neighbourhood. It was barely discernible among the line of shopfronts; some abandoned and others close to. He saw her through the window as she sat and stared into a cup. She fidgeted now and then but was fixated on the table.

He exhaled as he crossed the street and neared the door. If she saw him enter, his cover was blown. He shouldn’t but he had too. The chime of the door made him flinch but she didn’t move. He went to the counter and kept his voice down as he ordered a black dark roast. He didn’t really drink coffee but he would today.

He went to the other side of the shop and sat with his back to her. He took out his phone as he placed his cup down and opened the camera. He granted the permissions to access the gallery and messed around until he saw himself on the screen. He figured out how to switch to video then angled it over his shoulder so he could see her clearly. 

He stopped for just a second as his thumb hovered over the red dot. He gulped and leaned on the narrow arm of the uncomfortable wooden chair. He clicked the screen and the timer began to tick. He watched the digital reflection of her as she sipped her coffee. He could hear her tongue as she licked a droplet from her lips. 

He dragged his thumb along the line and the lens zoomed in. He sat like that until she seemed to wake up. She tilted the empty cup in disappointment and stood. She tossed it in the bin and he quickly hid his phone. He kept his shoulders slumped and tasted his cold, strong coffee. He blanched and waited for the door to ring.

When it did, he rose and dumped the coffee in the trash. He waited before he stepped out onto the street. He caught sight of her before she turned the corner. She was going home. He hung back and kept a languid pace. When he finally came upon her building, he was jittery. 

He could go home. Stop this. It had already gone too far. He looked up at the brick facade and cracked his neck. Not far enough.

He went around the alley but a homeless man was drunkenly staggering there. He waited by the mouth of the alley until the man wandered out the other end, his voice trailing behind him. Steve dipped between the building and winced at the smell of piss. 

He climbed up as he had the night before and counted the platforms. He stopped at her floor but as he looked inside, she wasn’t there. He saw her purse on the counter but not her. He ducked back down and listened. 

He heard her voice and his pulse quickened. He moved over to the other side of the escape but found himself blocked by frosted glass. She was singing out of tune. He heard her near the window and he bent down again. The old clasp turned and the window grinded as she pulled it up just an inch.

She walked away and her words turned to a hum. He heard the groan of metal and water begin to splash down. He carefully sat up and glanced through the small slit between the pane and the frame. He watched her shirt fall to the floor, then her pants. He was hypnotised by her movements.

He moved his head as he tried to see more of her. He caught the curve of her breast as she removed her bra and a full view of her ass as her panties joined the heap. He had to angle himself awkwardly to see the tub as she lowered herself into it. Her voice died as she leaned back against the porcelain and stirred her hand in the water.

He watched until she sat forward to quell the water and then some more. He heard the soft movement of water around her. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until his temples began to pound. Something deep inside him nagged at him. A voice growing louder and louder.

And it was stifled by the other. That one which had ruled him for so long. A sudden pang of guilt stabbed his chest. He tore his gaze away as she began to scrub herself with a loofa. He crawled slowly across the escape and descended, quite enough that any shift was disguised by the noise of the city.

When he was back on solid ground, he was dizzy. And uncomfortably hard. Certainly, he wasn’t the perfect, pious man everyone thought him to be but he’d never felt this… ravenous. He needed relief. Needed it bad.

He adjusted himself behind his belt and walked out of the alley way. He blindly found his way to the subway and rode it as close to his home as he could. He took the back streets and stopped to glimpse the press lined outside his house. He heard an angry voice and an impatient knock.

_Shit._ He ducked through the gate and let himself through the back door. He removed his cap and his hoodie and hid them in the chest filled with old newspapers and magazines. He closed the lid and the knock came again. He had calmed down, barely. Even after the long train ride, he was riled.

He kicked off his shoes and ruffled his blonde hair just a little before he answered the door. Bucky sneered back at him and sidled through without a word. Cameras shuttered and Steve closed the door.

“What the hell were you doing?” Bucky asked as he stretched his metal fingers.

“Napping, “Steve lied.

“Napping?” Bucky squinted.

“Not much else to do,” Steve shrugged.

“Sure. Not since…” Bucky sighed as he went through to the living room. Steve didn’t mind; he always told his friend this was his second home. “I read the article. You don’t have to get so defensive. I can take care of myself.”

“It wasn’t about you, it was…” Steve trailed off and thought as he lingered by the doorway. “I didn’t like her tone. She was so… I don’t know how to explain. Calm but eager. Almost knowing. I think she wanted me to bite back at her.”

“Was it worth it?” Bucky sat and leaned on the arm of the chair. “Because I can guarantee I have no desire to work with this spider punk. You know what he did today?”

Steve crossed the room and turned on the dial of the artificial fireplace before he sat.

“What did he do this time?”

“Let’s just say my arm had to be calibrated after.” Bucky frowned. “My gun works just fine though.”

“I’m sure Fury enjoyed that.”

“Fury? He’s been storming around somewhere else.” Bucky said.

“Somewhere else?” Steve prodded. 

“This girl that wrote the article. They’ve got eyes on her and they’ve done their research. Fast.” Bucky brushed his fingertips over his stubble. “She pissed off every single person under Fury’s direction.”

“She’s just a reporter,” Steve said. She was his to deal with, not theirs.

“Maybe but she sure knows how to stir the pot,” Bucky lowered his hand. “There’s a new investigation. I could say I’m relieved I’m not the target now but it seems we all are actually.”

“What do you--”

“They want new accords.” Bucky said curtly. “I think Fury’s going to have to start reporting to someone.”

“Fuck,” Steve swore and Bucky blinked. Steve didn’t have a Christian mouth but he didn’ often go past a ‘damn’ or ‘shit’. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s hers,” Bucky insisted. “She knows nothing about what we do. What we have to do.” Bucky grimaced. “Fuck her.”

“Yeah…” Steve felt the tic in his jaw. “Fuck her.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader tries to change her course.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (series)
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m hoping to work on some other fics today and a reminder that I have a new challenge for dark!writers on my tumblr darkficsyouneveraskedfor. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Reader**

The next day you felt more enlivened but no more detached from the mess you’d created. You ducked the hounding press outside your building and ignored the exaggerated speculation about Steve Rogers; about you. Either he was the villain and you were the innocent lamb, or he was the respectable hero targeted by the shrewish report. Either way, they were wrong. You were both just human.

You went to the office and settled into your new desk. Your goal was a sense of normalcy. You just wanted to be the nameless writer again. You needed something other than Steve Rogers. You needed a story of your own.

You opened your browser and went about scrolling through the digital newspapers and headlines of Google. You inhaled the scent of your coffee as you impatiently flicked the mouse wheel.

It wasn’t news to say there was crime in New York you mused at the _Times’_ small tenth-page blurb. You paused and re-read it; _‘String of Assaults Against Sex Workers Continues.’_ It was no Jack the Ripper, sure, but it might be enough. There could be something there.

You needed a pitch by the end of next week if you wanted to keep up. Poppy’s tapping nails sounded in the back of your head and you sent a screen cap of the article to your phone. You clicked onto past issues and traced the story back almost three months. The first report had been almost half a page and featured the image of a particularly sinister streetlight. It was a start.

You continued your search for the hook to catch onto. Anywhere you could start. The red light district would be a start, the attacks seemed to centre around a certain street within it. You filled a folder with reports from various sources; all so distanced and apathetic. Just numbers.

You left in the afternoon. You took your new pile of distraction and headed back to your apartment. When the windows began to darken, you ordered ramen and ate at the coffee table as you sorted through the clutter. The tabletop was covered in clippings and your own notes alongside your open laptop glaring back at you.

You woke on the couch and continued in your narrowed search. You grew more and more anxious as you did. _You needed to get your own look at the seedy nightlife but how?_ You didn’t exactly blend in and you doubted these women were eager to spend their time with some nosy reporter.

Well, you had to at least try. You found yourself watching the clock as you paced around with papers in hand. You stopped to scribble down notes every now and then. Tick, tick, tick.

You were too nervous to eat. You pulled on jeans and a faded plaid shirt. You dug out your old tennis shoes and checked yourself in the mirror. Well, you didn’t look like the stuffy journalist without a clue but you barely looked like you knew what you were doing. You slung the strap of your small purse across your chest and headed out.

It was dark by the time you stepped off the train. You could feel the nerves bouncing around your chest. You kept to the shadows, watching, afraid. 

You watched a woman, not so obvious, approach a car. She wasn’t your typical Law and Order prostitute. Sure, her jeans were tight and her jacket a little short but she looked like any other woman in New York. She got in a dark car and it pulled away. It drove down the street and turned into a lot and your imagination tied it all together.

Several other women went about their transactions. You were shaken as a car honked at you and you waved the man away from the curb, careful to step clear of the glow of the streetlight. The first woman appeared again, her chunky heels echoed on the pavement as she began to her vigil again; a casual strut up and down the pavement.

You continued your observation and added notes in your phone. You edged closer without thinking as the illicit marketplace began to bustle. That same woman, the first you’d spied, surprised you as she stopped you from getting any further. She was tall and slender, her hair carefully bundled atop her head.

“New meat?” She wondered as she leaned against the edge of the storefront. You blanched at her and stepped back. “No, no, definitely not.”

“Uh, sorry,” You said softly. “I was just…” You hid your phone in your sleeve.

“Watching? Getting your thrills?” She chuckled. “Sweet little thing like you.”

You looked down, embarrassed.

“It’s okay. You think we don’t get all sorts.” She crossed her arms. “I can’t charge you for watching but maybe you were looking for more.”

“I’m not– How much for an hour?” You perked up. 

“Depends what you want.” She said coolly.

“A hundred?” You offered.

“Just out here?” She wondered. 

“No, I…” You glanced around. A shining neon sign caught your eye from down the street. “A drink. I’ll pay. Plus your rate.”

“Lonely.” She mused. “Hiding?”

“Deal?” You ignored her implication.

“A hundred and a drink? I’ve done worse,” She replied.

🖋️

The bar smelled of stale alcohol and piss. The pungent odor drifted from the dingy bathrooms and filled the place. You sat across from the woman at a small round table away from the bar. She ordered Jack Daniels and you had a water. She warned you not to drink it. You didn’t.

“So, honey, what are we thinking?” She leaned on the table.

“I don’t– I just want to talk.” You said.

“Talk? Mmm, oh you’re one of those.” She purred.

You pulled out your laminated name badge from your purse and slapped it down between you.

“I’m a reporter for Motley Magazine.” You said. “I really just want to talk.”

She sat up straight and her expression turned stringent. She looked around and shook her head. 

“I can’t–”

“Please, just a conversation.” You interrupted. 

“No, I could get in a lot of shit.” She hissed as she grabbed her fringed purse.

“Wait, I’ll pay double. No names, nothing that could give you away,” You stood as she did. “You say ‘stop’, we stop.”

She looked at you and inhaled. She chewed her lip and picked at the wood of the table. She sat slowly.

“One hundred now,” She said. You nodded. 

“If I hit the atm over there, you still gonna be here?” You asked.

“Sure.” She took a gulp of her drink.

You went to the corner, the atm screen was cracked but still operational. You stood as close to it as you could as you slid your card in. You were careful to hide your withdrawal as you crumpled your receipt and neared the table. You sat and subtly offered the folded bills to her.

She counted it and shoved it away. She crossed her legs and leaned into the wall as if to hide herself.

“So…” She began.

You introduced yourself and she reluctantly gave you her name as you assured her it would not be included in whatever came of your conversation. Her name was Rashida but her clients knew her as Ruby. She shifted as the bar door opened and glanced over her shoulder.

“I want to know about these assaults. More than that,” You kept your voice low as she leaned in. “I want to know everything.”

“Everything?” She blinked.

“I’ve been tracking these attacks through the papers. It’s just numbers; faceless women, some men. Relegated to the back sheets.” You explained. 

“For what?” She asked. “To make yourself a name?”

“No, not at all. I want you to be known. All of you. If people can contextualise the faceless, they can empathise, and that means they’ll talk.” You said. “I’m not stupid. The police, they don’t care about you, but they will care about those Upper East Siders who think they’re on some sort of crusade.”

She narrowed her eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know… much. I know Selene got it bad but haven’t seen her much since.”

“I don’t expect you to know everything, I just wanna know what you do know.” You said. “So start with Selene. Were you out that night?”

“Yeah. She wasn’t far from me, we’d talked a little. She was… excited. She had almost saved enough to get her girl into dance. She just needed a few more johns and she’d have it. It was a usual night, guys came and went, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“So when was she attacked?”

“Well, I was on a job and I got back and she was gone. I assumed she’d found her own but I never saw her again that night. I saw the article but didn’t know it was her until a few nights later. Stitches,” She traced from her forehead to her chin. “Works not so good for her now.”

“You know anyone else?” You probed.

“A few girls I see around but me and Selene, we got daughters. We try to take care of each other. Try.” She shook her head. “I… I don’t know.”

“The other girls?”

“Some of them haven’t come back after. Maybe they’re too afraid. Those who have, same thing. Sliced,” She repeated the motion down her face. “So we try to keep track of the weirdos and each other. Some girls are partnering up. One goes, the other waits until they’re back. They got these tracking apps so they can find each other.”

“Mmm,” You typed into your phone as she talked. “So you would say there’s fear?”

“There’s always fear. We see girls one night and they gone the next. It comes with the job but… something about this is so deliberate.” She said. “They’re not just hurting us but our work. Men don’t wanna look at a girl with a fucked-up face.”

“And you? Have you changed the way you work?”

“Well, of course, I’m more aware but that’s always how it is. You take note of everyone, everything. I got a thing for faces, you know? I try to memorize them.” She took another drink. “Even just those walking by. You never know.”

“Mmhmm,” You nodded as she finished the Jack. “Anything suspicious? Well, beyond the usual?”

“That’s the thing, nothing stands out. And it’s hard to tell. Half our customers are strange in one way or the other. Mostly harmless, lonely. It’s the pimps you gotta beware of…”

The hour passed quickly as Rashida spoke and you listened. She spoke more freely as the night wore on and you paid for another round. You were stunned when you looked at the clock.

“Fifteen minutes over,” You reached for your purse. “Extra twenty?”

“Whatever,” She said. “It’s… no names?”

“Promise. No names.” You paid her behind the empty glasses. “Rashida… do you think we could talk again? Maybe during the day? I’d like to get some of this on tape.”

“On tape?” Her eyes flared.

“For my own purposes. It will not be released. I’ll have you sign a waiver.” You said.

She rubbed her forehead and thought.

“I’ll pay.” You offered.

“Do you really think your story can help us?” She asked. “That these fancy New York millionaires will care?”

“I think it’s worth a try.” You stood and stretched a cramp out of your calf. “So?”

“You don’t needa pay me,” She said. “Not during the day. You just tell me where to meet you.”

“Alright,” You flicked through your phone and turned it to her, “Can I have your number?”

“Sure, babe,” She smiled and typed in her number before handing it back. “I’m gonna finish my drink. I’ll see ya ‘round.”

“I’ll be in touch,” You tapped the table as she sat back down. “Be careful, okay?”

She looked at you as she held her glass. She considered you a moment then nodded. “Thanks. I always am.”

You left her and pushed out the door. You were rarely out this late and never in this part of the city. You were suddenly very nervous. Alone. The woman had made you feel safe. She was much braver than you.

As you set off down the sidewalk, you heard your name behind you and the door swung shut. It was Rashida. She caught up to you as you turned back.

“Wait.” She pulled you close to the chipped brick wall. “I got an eye for creeps, I told ya.” She ushered you down past the bar and turned the corner. She stopped you just beyond it and held a finger to her lips and mouthed ‘listen’.

Two, maybe three, minutes and you heard the bar door. The footsteps wandered away and then returned again. She peeked around the building and drew back sharply.

“Carefully,” She squeezed your shoulder. “Look.”

You frowned and inched to the edge. You glanced around at the man in his hoodie. Tall with broad shoulders. He looked up and down the street and walked back and forth once more. He stepped out onto the street and took a slant across to the other side. He was headed for the subway; the same direction as you.

You pulled back and looked at Rashida.

“I seen him when you were hiding in the shadows. He’s better at it.” She said. “Didn’t think much, you know? As I said, the freaks come out after dark but then he came into that bar. He saw you, I could tell, was lookin’ for you. He ordered a beer but didn’t even drink it.”

The hair stood on the back of your neck.

“Following me?” You uttered.

She nodded and reached into her red jacket. She pulled out one of the twenties you’d handed her. 

“Catch a cab.” She said. “And keep your eyes open. He’s good.”

“You think… you think he followed me here?” You wondered as she turned and flagged a yellow taxi.

“All I know is he wasn’t here ‘till you were.” She said. “Too bad I didn’t get a look at his face. He made sure of that.”

You watched the car pull up and you gulped.

“Thanks,” You said numbly. “I–”

“Don’t thank me, babe,” She said. “I was happy enough to keep that two hundred and finish my drink.” She opened the door. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You slid onto the seat and she closed the door. You recited your address as she backed up onto the curb and watched the taxi drive away. You sat back and let out a breath.

_Were you really being followed? If so, how long had they been tailing you?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve starts to plan ahead.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (series); masturbation
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday was pretty rough personally but I’m working on my writers list at the moment so that should be out next week! As for my own writing, I’m not sure. But thanks to everyone who is reading along
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! I do read everything you leave and I apologize if I don't reply. That's entirely on me. Love ya!

**Steve**

Steve didn’t get home until well past midnight. He’d lost her after the bar and she beat him back to her apartment. She was still awake when he got there. Wide awake. Restless. She sat on the couch and fiddled with her phone, then the remote, then fidgeted again. She was shaken by her little foray into the underbelly of the city.

He was almost amused to think of it. How she must have felt. _Was she mortified? Intrigued?_ Maybe both. _Like him_. When he realised what she had been searching for, what the woman she’d been talking to was, he was surprised and even more interested.

When she flashed her press pass, he realised why. This was her new story. _Had she so quickly forgotten about him?_ Let him fall in the gutter as she chases down her next prey.

Home, alone at last, he found himself in a fitful sleep. He laid atop his covers and tossed and turned. In the span of a couple days, his life had so completely changed. He was startled to realise he had so easily forgotten about his work. She was the crux of his life now. The very centerpiece of his new existence.

When he finally dozed off, he woke only shortly after. It was still dark and he was uncomfortable as he laid flat on his back. He was hard. Painfully hard. As his pajama bottoms rubbed against his cock, he flinched. He sat up and took a breath. He couldn’t.

He closed his eyes and he saw her. Sitting on the subway, sprawled across her couch, oblivious in the depths of her deep porcelain tub. He fell back and hissed. His hand twitched beside his hip.

“It’s okay to be lonely.” She whispered in his ear. “Natural, even.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and his breath shuddered.

“I’m the only who sees you for what you are.” He felt her breath, as gentle as the breeze. “You showed me that day who you truly are. You’re human, like all of us… imperfect.”

He shook his head and felt the tickled along his pelvis. Felt the elastic of his pants lift and the soft touch of flesh against his arousal. Fingers wrapped around him and began to stroke up and down. Tortuously deliberate. He bared his teeth as the motion carried.

“No…” He murmured. “No… it’s…”

He bit his lip as her hand sped up. As his muscles tensed and all the warmth in his body gathered at that one spot. He felt it mounting within him. The years of pent up resent and wanting. Those things he never let himself feel. His cock hurt so much. She worked him even faster.

He came and cried out in surprise. It turned to a growl as the strokes slowed and he was eased through the waves of sheer pleasure. He was panting as he opened his eyes. He was alone. It was his hand around his cock, his cum cooling along his fingers. He pushed his head into the pillow and groaned.

He was tired, then. Exhausted. But he had to clean himself up and forget about this. Forget about her.

He sat up and held out his wet hand. He stood and used his elbow to flip the switch on his way into the bathroom. He passed the broken sink and went to the tub. He turned the faucet and shoved his hand under the warm water. He stopped the tap and shook the droplets off his hands as he stood.

He turned and looked in the mirror. He was flushed and his irises were pinpoints. He didn’t look like himself. He grabbed the hand towel from the bar that hung on the front of the counter. He dried his hand, his pajamas damp. He shimmied out of them and let them gather on the floor. He shed his shirt and stood naked, his eyes roved the thick muscles of his chest and arms.

“You know what I am,” He said. “You _will_ know what I am.”

🖋️

The basement was the only part of the townhouse that remained unfinished. Steve hadn’t been bothered, he’d intended it for storage and it worked well for that. But now he needed all this shit cleared out and he had a lot to do after that.

He resigned himself to a day by himself. He’d let her be as he started his work. And he knew if he kept on as he was, something might fall out of place. Something within him. He needed to focus on something else, just for a little bit. A day wasn’t very long at all.

The leftover drywall could be used still, the insulation, too. He’d have to grab some of the thick padding he’d seen at the hardware store. Two layers to be safe. That old washroom would have to be restored. The toilet was forgotten; the tank crooked and the lid totally gone. It barely flushed when he pushed on the handle. He’d make do.

After all that, he’d have even more to worry about. A bed would fit there where the boxes were and he could put a hook in the ceiling there along the beam. He wove between the stacks of dusty possessions. It would look bigger once he did away with the clutter. More than enough room.

He went and rented a unit downtown to store all his shit. He barely avoided the press as he pulled out but lost them soon after. He made several trips back and forth. It was afternoon when he started sweeping. He cleaned up the grim basement as best he could. It was almost evening then. 

He sat on the steps and took a breath. He looked up the stairs and back down. He’d need a thicker door, with a lock. That would need to be soundproofed too. Shit, he had to figure out a way to get everything he needed inside without drawing the attention of the cameras.

He glanced around as he stood and dusted off his hands. He left the broom against the wall and went upstairs. He washed his hands and pulled on his hoodie. It was dark. He cut through the back as had become his habit and headed down the little pathway that skirted the row of yards.

It would be easier to drive himself but the press knew his car by sight. He wasn’t that stupid. Besides, a man on the subway, hardly suspicious. She’d already be home or so he hoped. At her stop, he slowed his gait. As he came up on the street, he took a deep gulp of the night air.

He scaled the escape to his usual spot. Her window was dark but for the flicker of her television. She laid in its glare and stretched her arms over the end of the couch as her feet rested on the other. She had fallen asleep. He could tell by the even measure of her breath as he listened through the wall and past the buzz of the small speakers.

His hand slipped beneath the pane and he looked down at it. The window was open just a little to let in the cool breeze. He lifted his head and turned his palm up to grasp the wooden frame. He pushed just a bit and cringed at the grind. He stopped and watched her. She didn’t move.

He continued until the window was open to its limit. He stooped through. He was almost too big for it. He wiggled onto the other side and let himself down onto the floor carefully. He nearly kicked over the shelf just beside the window. He stood and glanced around the apartment. It smelled like roses, the way she had when he’d welcomed her into his house.

He crept closer, pausing after each step to listen. Her snores were soft and beckoned to him. He stopped just behind the back of the couch and looked down at her in the wavering shadows cast by the television. She wore a long tee shirt that read GAP across the chest; a small hole along the neckline and another near her thigh. He could see a hint of her panties just below.

He winced as he felt the blood rush from his head and he felt himself growing hard. He shook and gripped the couch. He wanted to just do it. He could. Easily. A hand over her mouth. She’d be terrified and she would know who it was she had crossed. She would realise what she’d done to him and he would make her know it was all her fault.

She turned onto her side suddenly and he ducked behind the couch. He heard a sniff as her snores quieted and she grumbled. He heard her moving around and the tv flicked off as her shadow stood on the other side of the sofa. He held his breath as her footsteps stumbled away into the bedroom. She didn’t even notice the noise of the city as it blew in through the open window.

He was too afraid to move. Ten minutes before he found his strength. Her snores resumed in the next room and he kept on all fours as he crawled around the couch. He followed her even heartbeat to her room and her arm hung down as she slept on her stomach. The curve of her ass was limned in moonlight through the space between her patched curtains.

He neared the bed and just watched her. Sat on the floor in a trance. So clueless, so weak to him. He got to his feet and waited. She didn’t wake. He smirked and neared. Still, she slept. He grabbed the handle of the night table just beside her bed and slowly forced it open. Pens, old cards, nothing spectacular. Disappointed, he closed it and inched away.

He backed away, stopped by her boxy dresser. He looked down and then back at her. He leaned on the side of the wood and carefully jostled opened the top drawer. A pair of satiny panties he shoved in his pocket without thinking and he felt deeper down. His fingers latched onto something firm and long.

He angled the large dildo out of her dresser and raised a brow. He’d seen these things online thanks to Sam’s dumb jokes. A small arm jutted out and curved parallel to the rest of the toy. There was a small button embedded beneath the silicone. He turned it in his hand and then tucked it into his belt and pulled his hoodie down over the oblong bulge. 

He shut the door and retreated entirely. That would be the first piece of his puzzle. A token to know her by until he could return it to her. The thought made him shiver as he made his way back to the window. He paused and took one last glance. 

He wanted to stay, wanted to go back in her room and wake her with the gentle buzz of the toy. Just between her legs, his hand between her shoulder blades as he held her down. _No, don’t look at me. Just feel me._ He took a sharp breath and kicked his leg over the window sill.

“Soon,” He whispered. “I promise.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader finds herself busy.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (series)
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have these chapters done so I’ll keep posting till the end.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Reader**

You met with Rashida at the beginning of the next week. Only three days after your last encounter. Since then, you’d found yourself watching over your shoulder. As you left your building, walked to the station, passed through the broad doors of the tall tower where Motley’s offices resided… You were overly alert and entirely uncertain. 

Yet you didn’t see anything more than before. The man in the hoodie didn’t catch your eye and in a subway car full of the same dark sweaters, _how would you even pick him out?_ You felt hopeless. Maybe he stopped. Maybe it was one of Fury’s men keeping tabs on you. Maybe he hadn’t been following you at all.

You shook away all those questions as you hit the buzzer and waited for the crackly speaker. Rashida was quick to let you up and welcomed you into an apartment as small as your own. The space was a cluster of children’s toys and mismatched furniture. You sat at the round table as she offered you something to drink. She brought you a glass of water and sat across from you.

“Maya’s at school til three,” She said as she leaned an arm on the table. “I’d rather she not be here.”

“I understand,” You took out your notebook. “Do you mind if I record this?”

She rubbed two fingers along the plastic tablecloth. “Recorded?”

“For me only. The audio won’t be released. And as before, this will all be on record until you say it’s not.” You coaxed. “We stop when you say.”

“Sure,” She nodded. “I do have a real job, you know. I work breakfast down at this diner.” She pointed at the window. “It’s just not cutting it.”

You set your phone down and hit the red button and took your pen.

“Do most of the women have other jobs?” You asked.

“Most, if not all. Some of them only come around when they finish down at the strip joints,” She leaned back, a little more relaxed. “I… Selene said she’d talk to you. If you wanted. I just don’t know how much she’ll talk. She still hasn’t told me everything.”

“Really?” Your lashes fluttered in excitement. “Yeah, anything she has– Any other girls you know, I could use anything.”

She exhaled and ran her thumb along her middle finger.

“I wanna help them, you know? Not just me. Because I’m just one of a lot. _A lot_.” She shook her head. “And they get younger and younger. Used to be I worried about protecting the young ones, now we’re all just thinking about ourselves.”

“I heard about Saturday,” You said. “You know her?”

“No, but I found her. Arm broke, face cut,” Her fingers closed to a fist. “She fought him and he fought back but now she’s marked. Forever.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to redirect for a little bit.” You said gently. “I don’t want you to think about the attacks. I want to know about you. Tell me about your first night there.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Because…you matter. And if people see that you’re human, that’s how they’ll see all the rest.” You shifted in your seat. “It won’t just be numbers printed beside some add for dry cleaning. It will be people.”

She thought and swallowed. She pressed her lips together.

“It was only supposed to be the one night,” She began. “Just needed to make up the last of the rent…”

🖋️

Poppy sat in her usual spot. Her desk was her throne and you were all just her subjects. He ashy hair was pinned up so only a single curl framed her face. Her structured blouse was a rich fuschia and the bow was much too big and tacky. You looked down at your tweed jacket with the three-quarter sleeves and a moment of doubt took you. You didn’t belong here with her.

You took a breath and approached her office. You knocked on the transparent door and she didn’t look up. She flicked two fingers for you to enter as she kept her eyes on the tablet propped up against her desk.

“What is it?” She asked, still scrolling through the black text.

“I’m… supposed to give you my pitch,” You looked at the clock above her head. “It’s noon.”

“Go on then,” She still didn’t look at you.

You glanced at the chair but didn’t sit. You hated the cold, hard seat. You neared her desk and laid down your single sheet. 

“In the last four months, there has been a string of assaults on a block which hosts a slew of prostitutes. The women who have been attacked all bear the same scars; from hairline to chin.” You said evenly. “I intend to write about these women who work there and get their stories and what is being done, or not being done, by the police.”

She slowly looked up through her half-moon glasses. She let the tablet lay flat and sat back in the tall white leather chair.

“Prostitutes? You mean the most common victims of assault? Hardly revolutionary reporting.” She sniffed.

“Think about it. Each woman who has been attacked in this manner has survived but she has been marked. It’s like… Jack the Ripper. He’s circling the block. Don’t you think one day he’ll get bored of just a slice? Saturday, a girl’s arm was broken too. It’s the first major injury beside the cuts.” You slid your printed pitch closer to her. “It’s only a matter of time before this is the new Whitechapel.”

She lifted a brow and reached to take the paper. Her eyes glossed over the text and she looked up at you again.

“This really what you wanna do?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already have interviews lined up.” You assured her. “I think this could be good. It might even help stop these assaults before they cross that line.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“We’ll see,” She set the page down. “I hope you don’t miss the mail room that bad.”

You withheld a frown and left her as she shooed you with her hand. Her confidence was disheartening. You wondered if maybe you’d taken a wild misstep. If perhaps you had gotten ahead of yourself. 

You sat at your desk and grabbed your phone. You took the folded paper beneath it; the list of names and numbers Rashida had given you the day before. Well, you had to make your shot and if you missed, it could be fatal.

🖋️

You spent the rest of your day calling the women and trying to arrange further interviews. Selene, though she sounded nervous, agreed and only one other; Tess. It was a start and a better one than you expected. Then you put in your earbuds and listened to the recording of your second meeting with Rashida. You transcribed diligently as you tuned out those around you.

You were spooked by a tap on your shoulder. You tore out your ear bud and glanced at Essie. She smiled as you closed out your work and turned to her. She had her Barbie pink purse on her elbow and her phone in her other hand. It must have been later than you thought.

“Hey, Rima and I are going for a drink. We were wondering if you wanted to come. It’s been a while.” She smiled.

Essie had started at the same time as you; she, an intern as you were relegated to the mail room. Still, you shared a sense of comradery as she had been a constant in your time at Motley. You peeked back at your screen and checked the time in the corner. You shrugged. There wasn’t much else you could do that night.

“I could do a drink.” You stood. “I heard you were doing a piece on some new designer?”

“Yeah,” She chimed proudly as you shut off your computer and grabbed your purse. “I’m hoping it can get me an interview at Elle or Vogue. You know this place isn’t really the height of fashion.”

“No, not at all,” You chuckled. “Surprising, given Poppy’s wardrobe.”

“The devil wears fake prada,” Essie snorted. A taller woman appeared at her side; Rima’s sharp bob highlighted the angles of her jaw.

“Hey,” Rima said as she pouted, her lips smooth beneath a coat of dark lipstick. “We aren’t going to that horrible Pop place again. Those lights give me a headache.”

“It was called Bubble and you didn’t mind so much after that shot of tequila.” Essie chided.

“No tequila for me,” You intoned. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Essie said coyly.

You shook your head and even Rima’s dour sneer cracked.

“No dancing,” Rima declared. “It’s not even Friday yet.”

“Then you’ll owe me on Friday,” Essie countered as she led the way between desks. “And a shot.”

🖋️

You sipped your gin slowly. You didn’t need a hangover on top of everything else and you weren’t really in the mood for alcohol. Or the chatty New York barroom. As always, you regretted your inclination to be social. You’d rather be at home, hypnotized by a screen as you tried to decide what to order on your pizza.

You didn’t talk much, you didn’t really care about the new pop star or onset romance. Rima barely seemed to stomach it herself but indulged Essie in her tabloid dreams. The night wore on as you found your glass empty and hid it behind your arm as you smiled. You were eager to find an excuse to leave before midnight.

“Ugh, I gotta break the seal,” Essie whined. “Damn.”

“Too bad,” Rima said dryly. “Don’t fall in.”

“Wow, love you too,” She huffed. “I thought this was a girls’ night.”

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” Rima teased. “I’m comfortable right here.”

Essie frowned and looked at you. You shrugged. You had been avoiding the smelly bathrooms. She spun around sharply and marched away in defeat. It was quiet for a moment, then Rima’s voice pierced through those around you.

“I read your article. On Captain America,” She said. “Very… interesting. I hear he’s been in hiding.”

“Oh?” You blinked at her. “I haven’t really… been paying attention. Gotta keep up with my new story.”

“New story?” She mused. “You mean… everyone in town is talking about Steve Rogers and you have the scoop and you’re just going to toss it away.”

“What scoop?” You asked.

“Well, what happened off the record?” She snickered. “We are all so curious and our imaginations do get the best of us.”

“It was… I just left,” You said. “Really. It wasn’t that… dramatic.”

“Oh, but we all got a taste of that temper. You must’ve been terrified.” She prodded. “Weren’t you? A man that big–”

“Why are you so curious?” You wondered.

“Just… am.” She grabbed her drink and you glimpsed her phone behind her forearm. She drank and you saw the familiar red dot and ticking timer. “You were right. Those avengers, they need–”

“Are you recording me?” You asked. “What the fuck, Rima?”

“What, oh no?” She looked down. “I must have hit it by accident.”

“Bull shit.” You pushed away your empty glass. “I should’ve… I should go. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Really, it wasn’t–”

“Save it. You can find your own story. I’m not it.” You hissed and saw Essie emerge from the bathrooms. You grabbed your purse and stormed over to her. “I’ll see you at the office.”

“What? Wait? Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m too old for this place,” You stopped on your heel. “Have fun.”

🖋️

The next day, you chose to forego your check-in at the office. Your pitch was approved, you’d sent your transcription to the cloud, and you weren’t so eager to see Rima again. You would see Selene at noon and hunker down back at your apartment, hopefully with even more to work with.

You left at ten. Enough time to stop and grab a bite between transfers. At midtown, you got a bagel and tea and sat in the cafe that smelled of cinnamon and beans. You spread the cream cheese and the door opened and closed. The line was growing longer and longer and you thanked your luck at getting ahead of it.

As you bit into your bagel and a seed stuck to your lip, you were surprised by an unexpected figure before you. You looked up and nearly choked. Steve Rogers wore a navy tee and jeans; much more casual than the captain presented to the world. You grabbed a napkin and covered your mouth as you chewed and swallowed.

“Steve?” You blinked.

“Hey, I know this is…” He looked around. “Weird. I was just coming in to grab a smoothie and I didn’t think it was you.”

“Oh?” You looked at the green drink in his hand. “Yeah, uh, coincidence.”

“Well, I’ve had to kinda change things up lately. Not gonna lie, I had to outrun a man with a camera a few blocks back.” He raised his brow in exasperation.

“Look, what has happened, the reaction, it’s not what I meant–” You found it hard to speak. You imagined your last week and a half had been much easier than his; even with all the chaos. “I was trying to show that you were more than a shield. That you weren’t just the righteous war hero and I guess…”

“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked. “Just for a second.”

“Uh, yeah,” You said hesitantly. You folded the wrapper over the bagel as he took the chair across from you.

“I got angry. That’s on me.” He said and paused to sip his smoothie. “And you’re right, I’m not perfect. I think the world should see that. I’d… like to do another interview.”

“Steve, look, I understand what you’re trying to do but it’s already out there. It can’t be taken back, people have already decided on what they think. I’m sorry but I can’t undo it.” You said.

“I know,” He was on the edge of his chair. “I’m not looking to clear anything up, I know that can’t be done. I just want a second chance. To paint a clearer, fuller picture of myself.”

“I… I’m real sorry but I’m in the middle of something else and I just think it might be too soon for all that.” You rubbed your neck. “Steve, I really am sorry about how it turned out.”

“For me then. You don’t have to promise a story. If you think it’s garbage, toss it.” He pleaded. “But I’d just like to do it for me. For closure. And if it ends up on the newsstand, all the better. If not, well, I know I tried to fix things.”

“I… guess I could… it would have to be tomorrow at the soonest. I have another interview this afternoon and I’d have to prepare.” You explained.

“Tomorrow,” He nodded and stood. “Perfect.”

“Alright. Does one o’clock work?” You asked.

“It works. Um, come in the back?” He said as a wrinkle deepened in his forehead. “There’s a bit of an issue with the front door. It’s a bit crowded.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “Right.”

“If you’re coming from the subway, you want to turn down the little bike path off the street before. There’s a red ornament on my gate, a little star.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya then.” You tried to smile but found it hard.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed his cup. “I’m sorry too. I wasn’t very nice and I knew you’d ask questions. It’s your job. I’m better than that.”

“It’s really nothing. I’ve dealt with worse.” You assured him.

“Okay. Tomorrow.” He tapped the table top. “Thanks for letting me interrupt your breakfast.”

You watched him go and he passed the window without another glance. There was a pit in your stomach. A sudden guilt. You’d caused him so much trouble and you’d been so concerned with yourself. So bad he was practically begging to talk. 

You had completely misjudged him. He wasn’t an angry man, he was only human. He made mistakes like everyone else. He should, at least, be allowed that one flaw.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s plan comes together.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (series); violence
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Steve**

Everything was ready. Well, as ready as it could be after a week of work. A week interspersed with her. Every night he climbed the escape and watched her. Imagined all the things he could do once she was there. Added to his list of to do.

He walked around the basement and preened over his hard work. He couldn’t get a real bed just yet so the small futon would have to do until the press retreated. He continued around the cool space and poked his finger through the hook embedded in the ceiling. It would hold her. 

He brushed his fingers over the curtain across the bathroom door. It looked barely more than a closet amid the mostly empty space. The only other piece of furniture were the plastic drawers. A stack of three filled with everything he needed. 

A thrill went through him as he recalled his trip to the sex store. He’d never been to one before, only the naughty comic shop back before the war. Bucky had tempted him into the shady shop but his cheeks had burned too much to look for long. He didn’t care as much these days.

He shut the door behind him and climbed the stairs. He closed the door at the top and lingered in the kitchen as he watched the numbers glowing on the stove. _Would she be early?_ His toe tapped and he smiled to himself. He could barely wait.

The knock came and he wanted to lunge across the counter. Instead, he rounded it and smoothed his hair before he grabbed the handle. He pulled the door open and she was there. She looked up at him as she played with the strap of her bag. He could see himself taking it and wrapping it around her neck…

“Hey,” He smiled. “I’m happy you came.”

“No problem,” She answered as he waved her in. 

She looked around his kitchen. The same discerning manner as before. Her eyes took in every inch of the place and yet when she looked at him, she was almost reticent.

“Can I get you something? I have some instant coffee hidden around here or some tea.” He offered.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t bother you…” Her voice trailed off. “Are you sure about this? It could do more harm than good. The general public is fickle.”

“Second thoughts?” He wondered.

“No, I just– Fair warning, is all,” She shrugged. “You know, I didn’t mean to blindside you the first time. I was just–”

“Doing your job. I know… I knew that.” He beckoned her out to the living room. 

He’d arranged the chairs as they had been last time; facing each other beside the little fireplace. He took his and she took hers. He watched her place her purse beside the chair and she pulled out her phone and the same worn notebook. She was deliberate as she got herself in order.

“Again, I will be recording this.” She said. “Do you consent?”

“Yes,” He said and her index finger tapped the screen. “So…” She took a breath. He was amused to find her nervous. She fiddled with her pen as she sat forward in the chair. 

“Can’t we just have a conversation? I think if we just talk, it would be much better.” He intoned. “More natural.”

“Yeah, that’s what this is. Just a conversation,” She assured. “So, you done any drawing?”

He smiled. He had taken out his sketchpad to etch out the basement and to write his list of needs. He leaned on his elbow.

“No. But I’ve been thinking about it.” He replied. “With all that’s been going on, it’s been difficult but it’s really not that unusual. I’ve always felt like people watch me. Like they expect so much of me and I think in a way, I’ve grown used to just doing what they want.”

She nodded thoughtfully and wrote.

“Well, I think I have to ask. Any more thoughts on retirement?”

“Actually, the last few weeks, it’s crossed my mind. A lot of what you’ve said has just stuck there, you know? It would be nice to just have a hobbies. Not a job, not duties, just what I want.” He let out a breath. “I don’t think it’s selfish of me to want that and it doesn’t mean I don’t want people to be safe but I’d like to be able to have both.”

“Fishing, you said.” As she continued to write blindly.

“Well, yeah,” He nodded. “And a few other things. I’ve actually been working on a sort of project this week. Something to help me clear my mind. Decide where to go from here.”

“A project? And what would this project be?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain.” He said. “I think it would be easier to show you.”

“Show me?” She perked up. “Uh, okay?”

“It’s downstairs. A pretty big undertaking but it’s coming along,” He slid forward in his seat. “Would you like to see?”

“If you don’t mind.” She stood after he did and placed her phone on her notepad in her arm. He ushered her ahead of him and pointed her back to the kitchen. “You’ve really done quite the number on this place.” She glanced around the kitchen as she entered. “Did you do it yourself or–”

“Most of it. I had some help here and there.” He watched as she felt the marble of the counter top. 

“Well, I think your living room is bigger than my apartment,” She kidded. “You ever think of doing that? Fixing up houses?”

“Hmm, yeah, it’s kinda… what I’ve been doing.” He said. “It’s just through there.”

He gestured to the basement door. She turned and stepped towards it. She paused and he nodded.

“Go on,” He urged as he neared slowly.

She spun back and opened it carefully. She started her descent and he followed. When she reached the bottom, she stared at the heavy door. She rested her hand on the handle and paused.

“This is quite the door,” She remarked. “Heavy.”

“Yeah, a pain,” He said. He was on the step right behind her, almost right against her. She pushed into the next room as if she could feel him. As if she could hear his thoughts.

She strode inside but stopped short at the barren room. She tilted her head and looked at the lonely futon. She recoiled in confusion and turned back to him. The door closed and clicked. The lock whirred as he pressed his thumb to the censor; an old lock repurposed from a safe allotted him by Fury.

“What–” Her voice died as he stood across from her. His chest rose and fell victoriously. She blinked and her lips parted. “Steve…”

“You know they suspended me for two weeks.” He said as his smile faded. “Because of you. Say I can go back in a couple days but this keeps up and it might be indefinite.”

“Steve,” She repeated and grabbed her phone from atop her notebook. “What are you–” She stopped the recording and dialed. The speaker blared with a dead tone.

“There’s a jammer in the wall. It won’t work.” He explained. “Soundproofing too so you can be as loud as you want.”

“Is this some sort of joke?” She scoffed. “It’s not funny.”

“I thought a lot about our interview. About what you said. And I did exactly what you suggested.” He walked slowly around her and she turned with him; nervous, frightened. She hugged her notebook to her chest. “I found a hobby. Something to keep me busy.”

“I don’t–” She seemed to choke on her words and he heard the quaver in her voice. “Please–”

“Shhh,” He hushed. “You made me realise so much more.” He continued to circle her. “I am lonely and tired. Even if they do let me come back, I’m not so sure I want to. After all I’ve done, you think people would be a little more grateful, but no, they let some devious reporter twist my words.”

“I only wrote what you said.” Her eyes searched him desperately.

“You provoked me. You wanted me to get mad.” He neared her and she backed up until she was against the wall. “You wanted me to snap. To give you a story. Because I’m the only way you can make your name.”

“No, no–”

“Shut up,” He grabbed her chin. “You’re done talking. It’s my turn.”

“Please–”

“You have one more chance to keep your mouth shut or I’m going to make you,” He squeezed and she whimpered. He tore her notebook away from her with his other hand and her phone cracked on the floor. “Did you tell anyone you were here?”

She stared at him then slowly nodded. His hand slipped to her throat and she flinched.

“Who?” He asked as he listened to her heartbeat pick up.

“P-Poppy, my editor,” She whispered.

He laughed. He shook his head and released her.

“I know when you’re lying. I can hear it.” He jabbed her chest. “Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum.” He imitated her pulse. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

She didn’t move or speak. Her eyes betrayed her.

“And you came in the back so no one knows you’re here.” He put his hands on his hips. “You’ve been hanging around downtown, sniffing around those whores. That’s a dangerous neighbourhood. Not unusual for girls to go missing, and one who doesn’t belong there? Not a surprise at all.”

“Someone will look for me,” She rasped as she touched her throat.

“So,” He grinned. “You really think they’ll find you?”

She was shaking and he was hard. He only just realised it as the pain settled in his core.

“You know they won’t and you know you’re stuck down here.” He crossed his arms. “You know it’s all your fault. You did this. This is what you deserve.”

“Steve–”

“You speak again and I’m going to knock a few teeth out. A pity because I like to have something pretty to look at but I don’t need you facing me.” He warned. “And that’s your first lesson; be quiet. Second: listen.”

She inhaled. He saw the glimmer of anger beneath her fear. His jeans were unbearably tight. He shifted his weight and dropped his arms. He cracked his neck and turned to the small plastic drawers. He knew she would try it. He laughed when he heard her shoes scuff on the floor.

He caught her as she hammered against the door. As she tried to twist the handle helplessly. He pulled her back and spun her away. He tossed her across the room and she stumbled onto her knees before the futon. She grunted as she struggled to get back to her feet.

He turned back to the drawers and opened the top one. He pulled out a pair of leather cuffs joined by a large metal link. He faced her and held them up. She tried to dodge past him but he easily stopped her with a single arm. He pinned her; her back to him as he crushed her between him and the wall.

“I’m going to turn you around and if you try anything else, I’m going to break your wrist. Then I’m going to cuff you anyway.” He growled. “As you scream in pain.”

She stilled, her hands still pressed to the wall. He could feel her trembling. He rubbed his crotch against her and he heard her heartbeat peak again. She could feel him too. The heat radiated off her body and fed his own.

He pushed away from her carefully. 

“Turn around.” He ordered. She obeyed, reluctantly. “Hands in front.” 

She held her hands out and he cuffed them. He lifted them above her head and led her to the hook. He clasped it through the link and turned the reel until she was on her toes.

“That’s it,” He purred as he backed away. 

Her eyes flashed and she kicked out at him. He caught her foot and felt the fragile bones of her ankle in his grip. He tightened his hold on her and she cried out.

“A little more and you won’t be able to stand on your own,” He snarled. “Not that you’ll be doing much of that.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She cried out. “You’re crazy.”

“You made me this way,” He let go of her and spun her violently. “You!” He stopped her so she faced him. “Because all I can think of is you. Of how fucking mad you make me. Of how… I need you.”

“Don’t do this, please,” She lowered her voice. _Pathetic_. “If you let me go, I won’t tell. I’ll–”

The hook clinked against the link as his hand caused her head to snap back. She was stunned, he could see it in her eyes, and slightly dazed. The corner of her lip began to bleed and her cheek was already starting to swell. She tried to shake out the pain but groaned and stilled herself.

“Shut. Up.” He hissed. “That was nothing. You understand? That was me swatting a fly.”

Her lips quivered as her eyes watered. His cock was throbbing. He stepped back and admired her hanging from the ceiling. Her head lolled as she spat a mouthful of blood and nodded. He bent to gather up her broken phone and the notepad. He placed them atop the drawers and opened the second drawer. He didn’t know what to try first.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader finds herself trapped.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (fingering, toy play, dildo, butt plug); violence
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Reader**

You were shaking. Your veins flowed with fire and yet the basement was frigid. You watched Steve’s broad shoulders as he bent over the plastic drawers. You could hear him sifting around though you couldn’t see through what exactly. He stood straight and you trembled.

He turned as he extended the legs of the tripod. He was deliberate as he spread them and pulled out a small camera. He secured it and looked to your as his finger hovered over the button.

“Do you mind if I record this?” He taunted. You grunted and he pressed a button.

You tugged on the hook but only managed to swing your feet. It took you a moment to get your toes steady on the floor. As he reached into the drawer again, you bared your teeth, helpless as the restraints stretched your arms above you. 

The breath went out of you as you saw what he held. It was all too familiar. The rabbit was yours; the same purple hue. You’d found it missing a few days before but merely thought you’d moved it without thinking. He lifted the silicon as he admired the length and neared.

“How--” Your voice fizzled as his eyes flared and you clasped your lips shut.

“It’s a good start,” He taunted. “But nothing compared to the real thing.”

He hit the small button hidden by the small arm. The toy began to buzz and he poked it against your cheek so that your teeth chattered. He dragged it down your neck and chest. He held it there and jabbed you with it sharply.

“I’m trying to figure out if that’s fear… or something else,” He smirked. “Your heart is racing.”

You opened your mouth and tasted the blood along your lip. You closed your mouth again and thought better of talking. Your cheek was still throbbing.

The dildo tickled you as he pushed it lower. He pressed it to your stomach and traced along the waist of your pants. You gulped back a breath as he inched onward. He stopped again, just along your vee. He came closer and grabbed the back of your head. 

He forced the toy between your legs roughly and pushed it against your cunt. He clicked the button again and it buzzed faster. Once more and you could feel it clearly through your pants. He pulled your head back and his blue eyes bore into you.

“You like to play innocent, don’t you?” He sneered. “But you’ve been hiding this…” He pushed harder and you winced. “Whew, listen to that heart go.”

Your thighs squeezed around his hand and shook. He began to move the rabbit against you and you felt your panties getting damp. You closed your eyes in shame and he released your head only to smack it.

“Look at me,” He hissed. Your eyes snapped open and he grabbed your chin, adding to the tenderness in your jaw.

“Steve,” You rasped as you tried to wiggle away from him.

“Shut up.” He snarled. “The only thing I want to hear from that mouth is you cumming.”

You whined and sealed your lips. The ripples spread from the toy into you. The waves spread from your core and along your spine. Your shoes slipped on the floor and your breath picked up. His hand wrapped around your neck again and he leaned in so that his nose touched yours as he rubbed you faster.

“Let me hear it,” He said. “I can see it--”

“Ahhh,” The small gasp burst from your lips. 

You tried to swallow it back but he didn’t let up. Your eyes watered as you gulped like a fish and the long moan escaped you. It rose to a fever pitch and you bared your teeth as the carnal cry was torn from your body. Your back arched without thinking and your thighs clenched around his hand as you came.

He snickered and ripped his hand from between your legs. He shoved you so you swung from the hook and shut the toy off. He tucked it in his front pocket, it barely kept from tipping out. He rounded you again, like a hawk. You hung your head and measured your breaths.

“Just like every other pest on this planet, you don’t realise how much you owe me.” He stopped in front of you again. “You owe me your life and that’s what I’m gonna have.”

He grabbed the front of your blouse. He tore it easily, the frills shred in half as it split to the hem. He snapped the right strap of your bra and then the left. He ripped it from you as the hooks popped out of the back and dropped it at your feet. The fabric of your shirt draped loosely from your shoulders and exposed your chest.

He tweaked your nipple and made another circle around you. He pressed himself to your back and reached around to undo your fly. He shoved his hand down your pants and felt along the cotton of your underwear. He tutted and drew his hand away. He grabbed the sides of your trousers and tore them down.

“You’re wet.” He remarked. “But you stand there and act like I’m such a bad guy.”

“Stop,” You begged weakly.

He untangled your pants from your ankles and threw them aside with your wedged shoes. He bunched the side of your panties in his hand and turned you to face him.

“What was that? You giving me orders?” He challenged. You shook your head in fear. “Despite all the trouble you’ve caused, I’m still the captain. You listen to me.” He wrenched your panties down and let them fall along your legs. “The only words you will speak are ‘yes, Captain’.” He turned you away from him and slapped your ass. It stung and you groaned through your teeth. “Nothing else. Understood?”

You shuddered and he smacked you again. This time it sent a pang up to your shoulders. You whimpered as your eyes dampened.

“That’s when you answer me, bitch.”

“Yes… Captain,” You said, hissing through the pain.

“Louder,” He slapped you again.

“Yes! Captain!” You called out as your legs quivered beneath you.

“Better,” He rubbed your sore flesh. “You’ll have lots of time to practice.”

He spun you back to him and took the toy from his pocket. He waved it before you and watched it intently.

“You use this a lot?” He asked. “I replaced the batteries, don’t you worry.”

You looked to the ceiling, your wrists ached from the cuffs.

“You seem the lonely type. Repressed.” He brushed the toy against your thighs and you closed your legs. “Off chasing your little fairy tales.” He pinched you. “Open those fucking legs.”

You parted your legs and he pushed the silicon against your cunt. He waited, silently.

“Yes, Captain,” You breathed.

“Good,” He purred and clicked the button. The toy pulsed against you and quickly rekindled the flickering flame. “Back then, before all this, women like you never made it far. They all just ended up in the exact place they were running away from; a horde of children tugging at their skirts.”

You were quiet as you kept your eyes above you.

“They say those weren’t the good ole days. Say we were wrong,” He clicked the button again. “But they don’t know. They can’t.” He dragged the toy along your folds, lingering on your clit before repeating the motion. “Look at me.”

Your eyes flitted down to him. He stepped even closer and angled the toy against your entrance. He turned it so the little arm faced him. You tried to say something but your voice died as he shoved the dildo inside you. He clicked the button again and the arm pressed against your clit.

“That’s it,” He began to move the toy, slowly. “I see it. You don’t want that life. You know it’s not meant for you.” He grasped the back of your head and pressed his cheek to yours as his breath grazed your ear. “You know this is where you belong. You knew that day… you knew what you were doing.”

“No…” You gulped.

“What?” He pushed the toy to its limit. “What did you say?”

You squeaked but kept silent.

“I never want to hear that word. You got me?” He growled.

“Yes, Captain,” You forced out.

“I don’t want to break that face,” He warned. “I really don’t.”

“Yes, Captain,” You whined as he thrust the toy in and out.

“Come on,” He sped up as the vibrations had your nerves whirring. “Don’t you want the real thing?” Your pussy made slick sounds as he pounded the toy into you. “You come and I’ll let you have it.” He slammed it in hard. “Come.”

You grabbed onto the metal clasp above you and your feet arched painfully. Your legs tensed as he worked the toy inside of you, over and over. You panted desperately and tossed your head back. You squealed as you came and the pleasure rolled over you like crashing tides.

He held the toy inside of you and let it buzz as he drew back and knelt to watch you shake. His eyes focused between your legs as he slowly pulled the dildo out and rubbed his fingers through your cum. He shook his head as he stood and clicked the toy off. He pressed it to your lips.

“A good woman cleans up after herself.”

He pushed until it hurt and you opened your mouth. He shoved the rabbit to the back of your mouth, the arm pushed painfully against the roof of your mouth. You nearly choked as he jammed it in and out several times and you tasted yourself on the silicon. You gagged and he tore it out suddenly. You barely held back the wave of nausea as he admired the string of spit hanging off the toy.

“Almost there,” He keened as he stepped around you. 

He placed the rabbit atop the stack of drawers and opened another. You heard a soft metallic rustle and he turned to you with a thin metal chain. He watched the silver sparkle in the light as he came close. 

“I never knew much about this stuff but with all this time off, I had a lot of time to shop around.” He grinned. “Things I never even thought of before.”

He clipped one of the metal clamps over your nipple and you flinched. He did the other and you curled your fingers into a fist. The other end hung down your stomach and dangled in front of your pelvis. He reached down and lined up the clamp with your clit. He secured it around your swollen bud and you let out a tortured cry.

He backed up and was once more at the drawers. You shied away from the lens as the red light shone back at you. He flipped open the cap of a bottle as he returned to you and the shape in his other hand was a blur. You flinched away as he touched your ass and spread your cheeks.

The cool liquid flowed around your hole and you teetered on your toes. You tried to step away from him but only managed to stumble. He growled in warning and he rubbed around your ring with his fingertip. He slowly pushed until he was inside, just a little, and he drew his finger in and out as he carefully stretched you.

He pushed another in and you exclaimed. The burning pain intensified and he impaled you to his knuckles.

“Tight ass bitch,” He laughed darkly and pulled out.

You felt another prod in place of his fingers and you tried to turn away. He slapped your ass and tossed the lube across the floor.

“So much for being nice,” He hit the back of your head and grabbed your shoulder. “We can do it the hard way.”

He pushed and the shape slowly stretched your ring. Your breath was laboured as it only got wider and wider. You mewled pathetically and a tear trickled down your cheek. The fullness was unbearable as the plug reached its limit and your hole puckered around its stems. You wiped your face on your arm.

He circled round you and his hand went to his hips as he took you in.

“Now, the real fun starts.” He announced as his lips curved.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes control.
> 
> Warnings: non-consent sex (butt plug, vaginal sex); violence, spanking/whippinh
> 
> This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the last chapter! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. 💋
> 
> <3 Let me know what you think with a comment! Love ya!

**Steve**

He walked around her and took another look at her ass. He could see a hint of the plug between her cheeks and his lashes fluttered hungrily. He came back around as the chain chafed down her stomach and she wriggled. Helpless, hopeless, she pulled with all her weight on the cuffs.

He grabbed one of the nipple clamps and pushed it even tighter around her flesh. She yelped and he released her as she stopped her struggle. Blood stained the silver, just a trickle, and he took a hot breath. He felt like a wolf, fangs bared and mouth salivating for his prey.

He looked down and watched his hands as they deftly worked at his belt. He unbuttoned his fly and pushed the zipper open. He paused and snaked the leather loose from the loops. He folded the belt in his hand and tested it against his palm. It sent a chill through him.

“N-no,” She gasped. “Please--”

He snapped the leather across her thigh and she gave a shrill shriek. She sobbed as she swung from the hook and fought to still herself on her tiptoes. 

“What did I tell you about that word?” He hit her other thigh and she gave another shout. He hit her stomach and she sputtered as the breath went out of her. “Well!”

“I--” Her eyes searched his. Sheer terror struck her and he saw the strength seep from her. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

His cheek twitched and he neared her. He tilted his head as he trailed the leather down her stomach.

“Good,” He licked his lip. “You’re a quick learner and the faster you learn, the better.”

He grabbed her shoulder and turned her. He rested the belt against her ass as he stepped around her and peeked at the lens. Assured that she was center stage, he drew back and lashed her. Hard. 

The strike reverberated around him and fed into the next. She let out noises he’d never heard before. Pure agony. Her feet slipped and he held her hip to keep her in place. He didn’t stop until she was sobbing. Until her head slumped in defeat and the welts on her ass were raised and some bleeding.

“Aw, no,” He cooed as he went around her. He grabbed her chin and lifted her head. Her tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. “Don’t cry. You’re stronger than that.”

She tried to shake his hand away and he slapped her. The split in her lip began to well again. She gulped down her breath and her eyes rolled back. She was dizzy as she swayed and her head lolled. She sniffed and her feet scrambled beneath her until she could still herself.

“Ah, don’t you do that,” He grabbed her head and forced it up. “I’m not even close to done. If you pass out, I won’t stop.”

She nodded and he raised a brow.

“Yath, Captam,” She slurred and blood dribbled over her lip. She’d bitten her tongue.

He let her go and repositioned her again. The curve of her ass visible to the lens as he came up behind her. He rolled the top of his underwear down along with his jeans. He let out a moan as his cock brushed up against his boxer briefs. He pushed the denim and cotton to his thighs and stroked himself.

He brushed his tip against her tortured ass and she flinched. She moaned and the link of her cuffs clinked in the hook. He pressed his fingers between her cheeks and wiggled the plug. She whimpered and he slid his hand lower. He bent his knees and spread her folds with his finger and lined himself up with her entrance.

He paused. He was holding his breath and so was she. He rescinded his hand and latched onto her hip. He slammed into her so hard she was taken off her feet. She exclaimed and grunted through her teeth as she kicked in pain. 

“I told you,” He snarled. “That toy was nothing compared to me.”

She shook and her fingers wrapped around the hook above her. He grabbed her shoulders and wiggled his hips as he tested her limits. She was tight. Very tight. She whimpered at every little move.

He thrust once, so harshly that she was once more off the ground. He repeated the motion several times until she was trembling in pain. Or pleasure. The way her cunt clenched around him was delicious.

He moved more steadily against her, slamming into her hard enough to jolt the plug in her ass. Her whines became laboured and desperate. He felt her cum and the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of her grew louder.

He leaned against her as he reached down to her leg. He grasped behind her knee and bent her leg up and then the other. He lifted her so she was hanging from the hook and impaled entirely by his cock. He held her like that as he hammered into her from below. Her voice was stuttered and strained.

He loved the sound. The slick squelch of him inside her, the broken cries of the woman at his mercy. And they were all for him. His little secret. His hobby. He crashed into her relentlessly and felt the ecstasy bubble in his core. 

He puffed as he felt the rise, too enamored to slow it. His flesh clapped against her as her juices dampened the front of his jeans. He squeezed her legs and bucked into her violently as he came. He bent his head and sank his teeth into her shoulder to keep from crying out. She yelped as he emptied himself inside of her.

When he was still, he let her legs down and she hung against him. He eased himself out of her and his cum spilled down her thigh and dripped onto the floor. He sighed and rounded her. He reached for the camera and removed it from the tripod. He pointed the lens at her face, her swollen cheek, her bloodied lips, her dazed eyes.

Then he turned her and showed her dripping cunt; a creamy mess. He cradled the camera in one hand and focused on her ass as he grabbed the stem of the plug. He began to pull it out but thought better of it as it was halfway out. He pushed it back in until her ring was tight around it once more.

“Actually, you can keep that in.” He said as he stood straight. “I’m not done with your cunt.”

🖋️

Steve had to keep from whistling as he walked through the halls of the compound. He doubted the man beside him would appreciate that. Nick Fury was never much for levity. And now was not the time for celebration; well not for what was left of the Avengers.

As they passed through the front doors, the familiar flash of cameras greeted them and Steve smiled. He looked around at the clamoring reporters. Not so troublesome as those paparazzi droning like flies. No, a pleasant little flock of birds waiting for him to dangle a worm.

“You sure about this?” Fury paused just outside. “It’s not too late.”

“No, I’m certain.” Steve preened. “It’s time.”

Fury huffed and stepped up to the podium, several microphones mounted before him. He flinched at the feedback which greeted him and he cleared his throat. The press quieted as he stared them down with his single stern eye.

“Good morning.” He said stiffly. “I am not one to mince words so I would like to get to the point of this conference and to hand this over to man who you all are here to see. So I will say it straight; we have brought you here today to bid farewell to one of our greatest heroes.” The crowd gasped and looked at each other and then Steve. “It is bittersweet for us but we wish Steve Rogers, Our Captain, the best in what is to come for him.”

Fury nodded and backed away. He waved Steve forward and the golden soldier happily took the spotlight. He smiled at the stunned crowd.

“It has been with a lot of deep and difficult consideration that I have decided that it is time for me to step aside. But do not mistake me. This is not because I am hiding or because I am running away from one little interview. In fact, I am thankful for that article because it made me see that my time has come and gone.” 

He looked around and took a breath.

“I am leaving behind a good team. They are brave, smart, loyal, hardworking, and devoted. I leave you in good hands, better hands. But that is not to say that I will leave you entirely. Should the day come that you need me or my shield, I will be here. I will do as I have always done.

“But in the meantime, I will do something else. I have chosen to take on a new crusade. Starting right her in New York. All across the five boroughs. My new project is called Sarah’s Sanctuary. An infrastructure of shelters, youth centres, and food banks to be opened throughout the city to support all those pushed to borders of society; elderly, adult, children; men, women, LGBTQ. It will offer specialised services to all; housing, counseling, addiction treatment to things as basic as daily meals.

“Because as you know, you can take the boy out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take Brooklyn out of the boy.”

A dozen voices called out at once. Steve beamed at the reporters as they shouted their questions, desperate for more. He retreated with a wave and left them to their cameras and notepads. Fury followed him inside. They were silent for different reasons as they walked the halls. Both with too much on their minds.

🖋️

When Steve got home, he wasn’t surprised to find even more photographers than before waiting at his door. He skirted past them and closed them out as he stepped inside his Brooklyn walk-up. He had everything he needed; right here. He locked the door and continued past the front room and to the kitchen.

He took his time, admired the fruits of his hard work. Two boiled eggs, toast and butter, and a small cup of yogurt with granola on a metal tray. He balanced it all with a tall glass of water and unlocked the door to the stairs. He descended and passed through the thicker door at the bottom. It locked behind him.

His eyes found her right away. She was curled in a ball on the thin futon, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her face was swollen and dried blood flaked away from her lips. She was still naked and shivered. Her eyes opened slowly but she didn’t move.

He stopped beside the mattress and set the tray down beside it. 

“Sit up.” He ordered.

She hesitated. Then slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. “Yeth, cap-tain,” She said through her clumsy lips. She flinched as her tender ass met the futon and the plug became more obvious. She covered her chest and kept her legs bent to shield herself.

“I brought you something to eat.” He said. She stared at the tray and frowned. “What?”

“Where are my clothes?” She asked and he growled.

“You wear whatever I give you or don’t give you.” He sneered. “And eat when I bring you food.”

“It’s cold in here,” She complained and reached for a slice of toast.

“You won’t be cold much longer,” He assured her. “Finish your meal, go get cleaned up, and I’ll make sure you’re sweating in no time.”

She blanched and gulped. She bit into the bread and looked at the floor. She winced again and he saw the glossiness in her eyes.

“I announced my resignation today,” He said with a grin. “So… you won.”

She looked at him, appalled. He snickered and paced the room.

“I’ll tell you what,” He turned to her and struck that famous stance. Hands on hips, squared jaw, stoic gaze. “If you do me a favour, I’ll get you a blanket.” He watched her swallow, realisation struck her harder than he had. “You see, I’m an easy man to work with. Once you figure that out, you’ll life will get a whole lot better.”

**END**


End file.
